The Bent Boy
by ValorOrgulloso
Summary: Sneaking out and getting caught, Ginny must pay the price of community service to the school. There, Ginny meets the benevolent loner, Harry Potter, and her life changes. But he’s hiding a terrible secret that could unwind them both. sick!Harry HarryGinny
1. Prologue

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Prologue**

_There I am in the morning.  
I don't like what I see._

_So Jealous_ Tegan and Sara

"Yeah, but did you see it?"

"What do you mean, did I _see _it? Why would I see it?"

"I don't know! Geoff saw it –"

"Geoff is a sodding pansy."

"This is true –"

"Do you remember what happened with him and –"

"At the closing feast last year? How could I forget?"

Nate and Colin nattered on like a flock of gossiping geese. Their voices rose and echoed off the shadows of the castle walls. Carter, Vanessa, and I led the other two down the slope. We were going to get caught if they didn't stop it soon. The caretaker wasn't deaf, after all. Every time they spoke I held my breath, certain someone was going to come out and see what the ruckus was.

"Guys, be quiet! We're not far from the castle, and Filch could hear us! Do you _want_ to get expelled just because you won't stop giggling to each other like a pair of girls?" asked Vanessa. The guys shut up. I looked behind me and grinned when I saw their sullen expressions.

As we continued on in blissful silence, scavenging over the grassy terrain, we tried desperately not to trip over some obscure rut in the moss. Finally – gratefully – we reached the path. We followed it for a few short minutes before reaching the closed and locked Hogwarts gate.

"Here, help me up!" I hissed. Nate and Colin came over and flattened their palms so my feet could comfortably step up on them.

I used their hands as leverage and pushed myself up to reach the nearest knot in the gate. I grasped it and flung my foot over. There was a loud ripping noise. "Damn," I swore.

"What is it?" Carter whispered, revealing his always-considerate nature. The only person he ever was irritated with was Colin – mostly because Colin teased him nearly to the point of insanity.

"I tore my robe."

"No!" Vanessa moaned. "Wasn't that your favorite one? The one with the blue lining and silver buttons that look positively _stunning_ with your complexion. Oh, and your _eyes_ –"

"As interesting as girl talk is, I'm afraid we're going to have to keep going," said Nate.

Through the darkness, I saw Vanessa glare at him.

I wasn't too concerned as I could always get my mother to spell the rip closed later during break, though I'd have to change the story of the tear a bit. I didn't think she'd approve too much of me sneaking out on a school night.

Rolling my eyes, I continued over. I swung my opposite leg over the fence and climbed down using the metal indents on the gate. I jumped the last bit, landing on my old sneakers a bit harder than intended, and I fell over.

My friends laughed at me through the vertical bars. I glowered at them, stood quickly, and brushed the dirt off the front of my jeans. "Are you lot just going to stand there all night like lumps, or are you going to actually have some fun?"

They laughed a little bit more at me before following me. Colin went first, denying help when offered from Carter and Nate. Out of all of us Gryffindors, he was the most enthusiastic about proving himself. He called it pride. I called it arrogance.

Within minutes, all five of us were over the gates – Carter hopping over last as he was the most agile if not strong like Nate.

"The Scalding Cauldron, right?" Vanessa asked.

"I'll scald your cauldron if you'd like," said Nate, slipping his long arm around Vanessa's shoulder.

She pushed it off her shoulder roughly. "You're so vile!" She pretended to be irritated, but she loved the attention.

It was a well known fact that Nate had been pursuing Vanessa since second year. Not as well known was that she liked him back just as much. She hadn't told anyone, to my knowledge, except for me.

"Aw, don't be like that, Ness!" Nate complained. She ignored him, instead lagging back to loop her arm through mine. He always called her _Ness_, and it always made her furious.

"Maybe next time, mate," said Carter, patting Nate lightly on the shoulder.

"How's Anita?" Colin asked as the Scalding Cauldron came into view. Anita was Carter's older girlfriend by three years – a practicing witch beautician, and Colin's favorite topic of discussion. Carter was rather sensitive about his girlfriend, and the subject riled him up rather quickly, especially when it was Colin doing the goading.

"Just because you're bitter you don't get any action doesn't mean you have to take it out on me, Colin," said Carter. He looked absentmindedly at his nails.

Colin muttered something that sounded like "bloody ponce." Carter shot him a look.

Ignoring Carter, Colin tried to surreptitiously sneak a glance in my direction. As I caught the look, I rolled my eyes. "It was one date, for Merlin's sake, and it's over," I said. Colin and I had been friends since day one, but I never saw him as more than platonic. He saw me differently, though, and once I had foolishly agreed to go on a date with him on a Valentine's Day trip to Hogsmeade. Nothing happened, but he had yet to let it go. He was convinced we were soul mates or something.

"It could always be more," Colin suggested. He rose his eyebrows at me.

I raised my eyebrows in response to his attempt at flirting. "Carter's right," I said. "And please shut up."

"Yeah, nothing good ever comes out of trying to seduce our Gin-Gin here anyways," Nate mocked. I began to protest loudly at the nickname, but, before I could finish, Nate pulled Colin into a headlock worthy of my brothers', Fred and George.

I decided to just drop it and join in on the laughter as Colin frantically tried to escape Nate's hold, but to no avail: Nate's training as a Beater on the house team had made him strong enough to easily overpower Colin.

When Nate finally let go of Colin, Colin shoved Nate forcefully, but Nate barely stumbled. Nate kept giggling and Colin kept scowling, but, for the most part, we made it into the Scalding Cauldron unscathed.

The night went as planned. We used our homemade aging potions to get into the club so, that when they checked our age, we were able to stay and order alcohol – Firewhiskey to be exact. I didn't think I had that much – just two glasses – but I began to feel a little woozy. The world kept spinning, and I couldn't stop giggling. I grabbed Colin, and, a sure sign of my inebriation, I pulled him onto the dance floor. My friends soon joined in, and I thought that this was going to be a good night to remember.

At least, I thought that until a tall, formidable man grabbed my arm. On a reflex, I pulled back from the stranger, but his grip was steady and I couldn't escape. I saw something as I struggled – a badge. It was small and gold. It adorned the wizard's chest officially and contained words that made my stomach drop.

_WLEC: Wizarding Law Enforcement Crew_.

I gulped reflexively. "Run!" And then I did an incredibly idiotic thing: I kicked my captor in the shin. Knowing I was going to be in even bigger trouble if I got caught but unable to stop, I ran after my friends who had fled on my order. I couldn't keep up though – first because of the crowded pub – next because I couldn't keep my footing as the world swayed precariously. I fell, and, when I stood up, three of the officers surrounded me.

Knowing there was no way I was getting out of this one, I groaned and held out my hands to be tied.

---

It wasn't until the next day that I was called into the headmaster's office. I entered the enormous room with a debilitating headache to find Dumbledore sitting behind his desk in a high backed chair. I never thought he was intimidating until that moment. I realized he had the potential to expel me or, worse, tell my mother what happened. Ultimately, my fate was in his hands. Even so, he didn't seem the type to expel students for things as trivial as leaving the school grounds for a night of partying.

Finally tearing my eyes away from the headmaster, I noticed McGonagall standing off to the the side, eyes surveying me with discursion.

"Please, sit," said Dumbledore. I considered saying no, but, deciding I was in enough trouble, I took a place in one of the three leather armchairs surrounding the desk.

First, he had me explain where and why I was the night before. I explained my intentions for the most part, but I left out my friends. If anything, I wasn't a snitch.

Dumbledore, after a silence that lasted too long for my comfort, spoke. "Since you're a student and school is still in session, the law enforcement crew has decided to let me decide your punishment. Professor McGonagall and I have decided that detentions would not give you the lessons you need, so we have settled on forty hours of community service for the school." My stomach dropped. Detentions were over fast, but forty hours of community service would take _forever_.

"Since you must be supervised as you follow through on the community hours, we have asked a fellow student if he would not be too troubled to help us, as he is already an enthusiastic asset to the school's community services."

Just then, a knock came from the other side of the office door.

"Come in, Harry," called Dumbledore.

The door opened to reveal a boy. And not just any boy – a boy my friends and I mock quite a lot. There was a lot to laugh at: large eyes behind goofy glasses; messy hair that surely had never met a comb; ugly, baggy clothes. He was a quiet loner. One thing I had noticed, though, was that he was immune to all the criticism he received. He seemed impervious to students' mockery of him. While some might have found this a positive asset, I just found it irritating. It was as if he had no emotion: just a shell of a boy.

It seemed inhuman to not care so much.

One thing was for sure, though: he was weird. Bent. Stranger than even Loony Lovegood with her radish earrings and made up animals.

Potter approached me, and, holding out his hand to me, he broke into a shiny grin that could potentially shame the sun. "I'm Harry Potter. We're in the same house."

I barely glanced at the hand, and I certainly didn't shake it. His bright smile faltered, but he didn't seem too fazed by it and lowered his hand.

Like I said – he was nearly emotionless.

"Then I guess you know who I am," I said. I stood, ignoring the aghast expression on McGonagall's face and Dumbledore's sad eyes, promptly walking out of the office.

A few thoughts ran through my mind as I made my way through the stony halls. Community service. Forty hours. Harry Potter as my overseer.

This would be hell.

**A/N: I did an _extreme _rewrite of this chapter 04/07/10. I moved a lot of things around and added a few more details. If you already read the preexisting chapter, I highly recommend you read this one. It's a million times better, as my writing has significantly improved since I first posted this story over a year ago.**

**Also, for all you Star Trek fans, Ginny thinks Harry Potter is like a Spock. That's what I was thinking about when I rewrote it anyways LOL.**


	2. Annoyance

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Annoyance**

_Every word you say to me  
uncovers your hypocrisy.  
Your lips are filled with sugar,  
but your taste is bittersweet._

_Without You_ Shawn Hlookoff

It was Saturday, and my first day of community services to the school had begun. My friends were sympathetic to my situation, apologetic, but I could tell they were all secretly glad it was me and not them that had been caught. It was our sixth year, and our last one to fully enjoy before N.E.W.T.s and an unhealthy amount of studying overcame us. O.W.L.s had been bad enough the year before. And now I had hours of community service weighing me down so the chance to relax this year was completely annulled.

The day before an owl had come flying towards me during the morning post. I opened it to see a short message from Potter.

_Ginny Weasley,_

_Tomorrow is Saturday and officially your first day of community service. We'll be in greenhouse one immediately after breakfast, doing a job Professor Sprout has left for us. We will prepare her plants for a first year class the following Tuesday._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

_P.S. I know you think this is a waste of your time, but helping the community is a positive choice, and you'll learn to enjoy it!_

I scoffed at the P.S. part. Of course the golden Harry Potter would enjoy community hours. He had no friends, so there wasn't any other pastime he would care about.

My friends didn't know Harry Potter was my "mentor" for the hours, so when Colin snatched the letter out of my hands and began reading it, I could do nothing but hopelessly watch as his smirk grew.

"Harry Potter?" he laughed. Nate, Carter, and Vanessa became attentive when Colin said _Harry Potter_ and leaned over to read the short note.

I decided to laugh it off. That was the only way to resist being teased. "Yeah, the bloody sod has been assigned as a baby-sitter for me. Apparently Dumbledore doesn't trust me to make _positive choices_ so I now have to be supervised by Potter," I said in disgust.

My friends laughed at my situation, and I felt a pang of annoyance. I hid it, but I couldn't help but wonder if they would have laughed if it was their own life. Seconds later, I answered myself: of course not. I loved my friends, but they were selfish prats.

A few minutes after the exchange, we were discussing something trivial; I snuck a glance down the table to where I knew Harry Potter to be, head shoved in a catastrophically large book. No one sat near him, separated by at least three or four places. I began to feel the tiniest sliver of pity for him, but then he lifted his nose out of his book, and, as if sensing my stare, looked up at me.

He released that huge grin of his and waved at me. I didn't return the grin but rolled my eyes and kept talking to my friends. Out of the corner of my eye I could almost see his down-trodden expression and fading smile. I forced myself not to feel guilty – after all, I had never given him a reason to believe I was a nice person. I was a rebel, and I had a reputation to keep up; everyone knew this – even my older brother, Ron.

I didn't talk to Ron much. He wasn't exactly the epitome of cool. He had two good friends: Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Longbottom was the-Boy-Who-Lived, and as such the trio was always getting into all sorts of trouble. The difference between my trouble and their trouble was that my trouble was mischief while theirs was for the greater-good.

Ron was also friends with Luna Lovegood, almost an insult in itself. They were some of the only people I've ever known to not tease Potter; they even talked to him sometimes. Ron shared a dorm with him, so I would assume they came in contact with each other occasionally. I couldn't associate myself with my brother for fear of being rejected by my friends. He understood my situation, and we only talked when necessary.

So now, as Saturday's breakfast ended, I made my way across the grounds and into greenhouse one. It was a fairly warm October day, so just my shirt was enough to keep me comfortable.

The room had mounds of soil lining the far wall and many green, tangled plants stretched across another. Potter was already there; a pot in hand and a large pair of sheers, but Professor Sprout was no where in sight.

He heard me enter and stopped his work, wiped his brow, stood, and finally looked at me. The first thing he said was, "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Excuse me?" I looked down at my outfit. It seemed perfectly alright to me: skirt, blouse, stockings, trainers. Less could be said for him – he looked like he had dressed in the local garbage.

Potter sighed, running a finger over his mouth. I stared at him until he finally said, "Well, you'll see I guess." He then meandered towards the soil, and I followed him almost unconsciously.

"I'm going to be starting you out with something simple – the soil," Potter said. If anyone else had said that to me, I would have been insulted – _something simple_. But, as it was, it didn't come out as degrading. He seemed earnest. "All you have to do is take the potted plant I hand to you and gently pack down some soil around it." He paused a moment before grabbing a piece of the green plant, cutting it off with the sheers and laying it gently in a brick colored pot. He then walked over to the soil, grabbed a small shovel, picked up some dirt with it, and poured it around the plant.

I watched him finish the pot, filling it up three fourths of the way.

He smiled at me and handed me the shovel. I took it, keeping my face blank as I looked up at him.

He started to walk back to the green plants but seemed to forget something as he turned back around.

"Pardon, but I don't believe you've introduced yourself," Potter said politely.

I looked at him in surprise. I thought everyone knew who I was, and the blatant statement caught me off guard. "Ginny Weasley," I said stiffly.

His face broke into another smile. "Ginevra," he breathed.

"How'd you know that?" I asked. The breathy voice he used was odd; like it had some message I should have caught.

He shrugged. "Lucky guess, I suppose." My brows scrunched lightly together.

"You suppose," I repeated. Ginevra wasn't a very common name.

"Yes," he confirmed before turning back to the green, tangled mess, grabbing his sheers along the way.

I shook my head, reflecting back on the exchange. It seemed normal, simple, average even – but at the same time it was one of the most aggravatingly strange conversations I've ever had. And I didn't know why. Was it the tone of voice he used? His body language? The use of words? Was it something else entirely?

He was one person I just did not understand. I ignored the strange feeling that had suddenly overtaken my stomach and head, and I sighed forlornly before gripping the miniature shovel tighter and walking over to the soil. This would suck.

But, before I could start, his voice came back over towards me. "Oh, sorry, but did you bring gloves?"

What was he apologizing for? "No, I didn't. Should I have?" My tone was bordering rude, but that was how I behaved around people like him.

"Yeah, but that's okay. You can borrow mine," Potter offered kindly, his grin bordering a little shy even. "My hands are already calloused enough that they won't be too bad by the end of today. You need them more than me as you're not used to gardening."

I opened my mouth to protest – I gardened during Herbology class!

"And I don't mean you're not used to Herbology class," Potter insisted in that same, mind-gratingly kind voice as if he read my mind. "I mean that this is harder labor than that – you'll be thankful you have the gloves. Your hands won't be rubbed raw that way."

And with that, he walked over, pulling the hideous brown gloves off of his slender hands.

He handed them over to me, and I took them hesitantly. They were smudged with dirt and faded as if they were used often. I looked up at his abnormally pale face silently. I wouldn't say thanks to Potter. My dignity wouldn't allow it.

But he just grinned as if I was some lovely girl who just thanked him for his actions and said in a very quiet voice, "You're welcome." When he walked slowly back to his station, unaffected by my cold disposition, I couldn't help but feel something that I could only identify as remorse.

Over the next two hours, I came to terms with what he meant when he said, _"Well, you'll see I guess."_ I was covered in dirt. On my favorite skirt no less. My white shirt was nothing more than a muddy mess, and my stockings were dusty. It would have been nice to know in advance that I'd be dealing with dirt. But Potter just kept sending pot after pot over with a levitation charm, and I kept shoveling dirt into said pots. Potter started to hum quietly and tunelessly. But, unlike with his smile, my irritation didn't increase. It was something to focus on during the dull work, and I was almost grateful. Almost. Another hour went by, and I wiped my forehead of perspiration. I collapsed back against one of the center tables' legs.

Potter saw me stop and came over to stand above me. "I told you we'd be in the greenhouses. What did you expect?" Potter asked me, though his question seemed oddly curious, as if he wanted to know that answer. It wasn't rhetorical like I thought it should be. I looked at his face, and it seemed almost too innocent.

I didn't answer his inquisitive tone and instead asked briskly, "When are we done?"

"When we have all one hundred pots planted and filled," Potter explained.

"Why couldn't we just use magic for this? We are magical and all," I complained.

Potter smiled patiently. "Magic on magical plants doesn't work too well, Ginevra," he explained, and I felt a pang of irritation run through me on _Ginevra_, but I kept silent for some unknown reasons and let him continue, "That and the roots on the plants are too delicate to not be potted by hand."

I sighed in irritation. "This is rubbish," I complained. I was tired, and it had gotten hotter in the greenhouse as the sun rose. I could almost feel my hair going flat.

For the first time since we'd been here, Potter's ever-holy expression faded into something akin to a frown as he observed me. But it didn't make me happy I finally got him to get rid of that god forsaken smile. If anything, it made me more annoyed with him.

"Here, I'll help you finish the dirt part – I'm almost done cutting the plant anyways," Potter offered, searching around in a nearby drawer for another shovel.

"Fine," I said indifferently. He looked up at me with that same frown but said nothing.

Once Potter finished cutting the plants, humming and all, he joined me at my station. When we got to plant numbers seventy-five and seventy-six, he started talking.

"Did you know that the Flora Pupilasis is a plant that is used for sight correction? It's not common knowledge though, and the process is strenuous so not many people do it."

"And why would this matter to me?" I asked keeping my head and eyes focused towards the shovel. Dig. Lift. Pour. Repeat.

Potter seemed to hesitate to answer after my icy response. Good. "Well, because the plant we're potting is the Flora Pupilasis," he said quietly in a neutral tone.

I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat but otherwise made no acknowledgement of his response.

But my lack of extreme snootiness in my response seemed all he needed to rattle on in his merry way. "I was thinking of getting it done, you know, the eye correction treatment, but it takes a few years, and by then I –" He abruptly stopped talking. I looked up at him for the first time in twenty minutes.

His face had gone still and immobile, but I could see a bead of perspiration glisten on his pasty forehead. I didn't know what it was from – the heat in the greenhouse… or…

"But then you what?" I asked. He suddenly seemed very nervous and jumpy – almost scared.

He shook his head quickly, his face paler than it was before. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Never better. Of course I'm alright. I mean, why wouldn't I be?" Then he mustered up another grin, but this one was different than all of his other ones. His other ones were easy and bright. This one was strained and frantic. His eyes were bright, but it wasn't the usual cheerful bright. I looked down at his hands. They were raw and red, not calloused at all. He had been lying to me, and I really _did_ feel the remorse that I tasted earlier.

He abruptly placed his shovel down on the hard floor. "Here, look…," Potter began weakly. "I promised I'd help in the Hospital Wing. What with all the magical accidents that happen at this school. Would you be okay to finish here alone?"

I opened my mouth to refuse and say no, but that oddly bright look in his eyes made me stop. "I – okay."

He let out another strange smile, standing up quickly and leaving before I had the chance to even contemplate what had just gone on.

I stopped the potting for a few minutes, reflecting on the most recent exchange between Harry Potter and I. There was something up with him; that was for sure. One moment he was smiling and acting the role of a good little saint, the next he was a thinly concealed train wreck.

I finished the potted plants quietly, barely noticing the scouring heat beating down on my brow as I thought of that messy-haired boy.

**A/N: Yes, Ginny is self-centered and rude. All she cares about is being popular, not ruining her bad-girl reputation, and fitting in with her friends. She'll only be this way a little while longer. No worries!**

**And something is going on with Harry… maybe you could guess. I wouldn't be completely shocked if someone figured it out already. This was very loosely based off of a movie. A movie I kind of hate, oddly enough, but mostly because it wasn't executed properly. I liked the idea. So I used it for this story. Can you guess what movie?**

**P.S. Thanks for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites! They made me happy, so I'm going to be selfish and ask: Could I get some more?**


	3. Intrigue

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Intrigue**

_When I look into your eyes,  
I tend to lose my thoughts.  
Don't forget your stare.  
Oh, what was that you said?  
Would you let me know,  
'Cause I can't read your mind.  
Oh, can you tell?  
I can't even explain._

_Can You Tell? _Ra Ra Riot

Over the course of the next school week, I couldn't help but sending the odd glance towards Potter. He seemed back to his strange self; a cheerful expression and secretive smile, carrying that huge red tome wherever he wandered. A few times I even caught him writing in it.

My friends hadn't stopped teasing me – mainly Colin and Nate – about my _alone time_ with Potter. On the outside, I was unaffected, but on the inside I wanted to throttle them. Couldn't they just leave it be? It wasn't like anything happened. Potter was just his overly polite self. Well, he was for the most part. There was that whole close-to-a-train-wreck sort of thing going on towards the end before he fled. Some might have thought his outburst was some unstable force within him – insanity, maybe. He certainly had the reputation to fill out the criteria. Yet, somehow, I couldn't believe that. There must've been more to him than I first saw.

I hated to admit it, but I was intrigued by Harry Potter. I could tell by the way I snuck glances in his direction. I could tell by the way I always knew if he was in the room or not. I could tell by the way I noticed the little things he did – how his left stride was shorter than his right; how he bit his lip in concentration as he wrote in that damn book of his, spraying ink blots all over the side of his face, not bothering to wipe them away; how he preferred treacle tart to pudding; how his smile grew as he stared out the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling towards the end of each meal; how he refused to look at me.

Everything about the boy frustrated me. I didn't get how a total reject could be so happy. I couldn't understand how his smile just grew higher as he stared around at the gossiping student body – in the common room, in the Great Hall, in the corridor. If someone laughed behind their hand to a friend and pointed at him, he smiled and asked how their day had been. Even Dumbledore wasn't as honestly cheerful.

He had a private joke, it seemed, and the rest of the world was oblivious.

Vanessa was the one that caught on to my interest. It was on Thursday while we were in the common room. Colin, Nate, and Carter had gone off to their dorm to hang out with their other room mates, leaving Vanessa and me alone in the common room.

I had been trying to focus on writing an essay for the dullest subject of all, History of Magic, when in walked my subject of interest. I immediately sensed he was there, and my head rose involuntarily. Left stride shorter than right, ink smudged face, bright smile. I took note of all of these things. He was an unknown specimen which I had to observe.

But, unfortunately, Vanessa saw where I was looking.

"You've been staring at Potter a lot lately," she said. I jumped at her comment, said so casually, and dropped my quill onto the floor. I hastily bent to retrieve it.

"Am I that obvious?" I asked. She just raised an eyebrow at me, making her answer clear: yes.

But then the eyebrow lowered, and she said, "Well, at least to me. Maybe not to our boys."

I was quiet for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Could you maybe… not mention anything, Vanessa?"

Vanessa sighed in obvious disapproval. "I could. But only if you stop it. He's not one of us, Ginny. You can't pine after him. There are plenty of other _normal_ boys at Hogwarts."

I sighed before finally giving in. "Alright." It wouldn't do for me to lose my friends over a boy. Especially a boy that is the school outcast, bonkers, a year older than me, and one I barely even knew. He was most likely crazy, after all.

Vanessa sat back, smiling, satisfied I had met her demands, but I couldn't prevent the uneasy feeling that took over my stomach. "Good. Now what about Colin? He's crazy about you."

I rolled my eyes, as I do whenever the subject of Colin and I together comes up. "I don't think of him that way, and you know it."

"But you two would be so cute together!"

"So would you and Nate," I pointed out. She changed the subject.

---

Saturday came quick enough with more community service on my part. This time it was tutoring. It was after dinner, so the evening I had planned on spending with Carter, Colin, Nate, and Vanessa was ruined.

I was meeting Potter in the library at seven thirty, and, selfishly, I was glad that anyone who was anybody didn't spend their Saturday evenings in the library. It would be embarrassing to be seen with Potter even if I wanted to find out more about him. No one else had to know that.

When I entered the library, I saw Potter sitting at a table with a group of four Hufflepuff second years. I dragged my feet towards the group, uneager to start the evening.

"Hello, Ginevra," Potter said, smiling brightly at me. His frantic appearance from our last encounter was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello, Potter," I said. The greeting was forced. It was an instinct to be rude, and it took all I had to get out those two words. I didn't _want_ to be rude.

"You can call me Harry – it's okay," Potter said. I nodded once in acknowledgement, a sharp jerk of the head, before dropping my bag next to an open chair and sitting in it. I most likely wouldn't start calling him Harry anytime soon. Harry Potter, yes, but not Harry. It was too foreign. Too personal.

"Okay," Potter began, "Professor Flitwick told me that you four need a little help on the color changing charm. First off, what you need to have is a proper hold on your wand, and…"

I stopped listening as I stared hard at Potter. It was the first time I'd seen him up close since last week. I watched his chapped lips move animatedly, hugging each word he said like they were something precious. They didn't make any sense to me, entranced as I was. His messy hair, which I had made fun of so often, suddenly seemed alive. It matched his personality, and I didn't know why I couldn't see that before. He seemed so full of life in that moment that I felt a pang of foolish jealous.

I didn't know what I was jealous of. His unearthly happiness? His enthusiastic nature? His carefree attitude? What, exactly, did I want?

"…evra… Ginevra?" I vaguely became aware that Potter's mouth was forming my name, and I also became aware that I should answer.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I just asked if you could demonstrate the color changing charm," Potter repeated. He flashed a grin at me.

"Oh, sure!" I said, completely out of character as his smile seemed to have affected me. Potter's smile seemed to become even more splendid at my exclamation. I demonstrated the charm on my bag, changing it from brown to pink with a flick of my wand. The Hufflepuffs were immediately entranced, and I rolled my eyes, my cheerfulness gone as quick as it came. I changed it back to brown. If anything, this made them more excited, and I nearly rolled my eyes once more.

Surprisingly, the rest of the night went through fairly quickly, what with alternating between observing Harry Potter and amazing the Hufflepuffs with my magic tricks.

When it was almost curfew, the Hufflepuffs said their goodbyes as Potter and I cleaned up.

"So, what have you discovered?" Potter asked.

"Excuse me?" I was temporarily confounded by his question.

"I've seen you staring at me all week. I'm not quite as daft as I might look," Potter told me. "So, what have you decided?" He didn't seem happy.

I was shocked at his forwardness, but I suppose I shouldn't have been. I didn't know the guy – there was much I didn't know about him, hence the staring and observing all week. And what have I decided from that? Well, for one, he was the most interesting person I'd ever met in all sixteen years of life. Nothing ever fazed him. No taunts, blatant displays of mockery. Nothing. He just went on living his life, sending a wave or a "hello" to anyone who looked his way. And it confused me. How can anyone just brush rejection off their shoulder like an annoying fly?

"Nothing," I declared. "I have decided nothing."

"Not a shame, then," Potter said. He paused, staring at me for a moment more, before standing up to leave.

I didn't want him to go with that disappointed frown. I wanted him to smile, so, stupidly, I shouted, "I've decided that you're one of the… most unique people I know." He paused to look at me again, unmoving, his face blank. "You like staring at the ceiling in the Great Hall. You have an unnatural walking pattern, but it fits you… somehow. You wear the most hideous rags I've ever seen, even though I _know_ the Potters are rich. You're always writing in that enormous book of yours. You don't care what anyone thinks, and you just continue on your merry way like nothing in the world could hurt you and… and…"

I stopped my rant as his grin returned, but it was sadder than before. "I wear these clothes because they're comfortable, and I like them," Potter explained. "And those are all nice observations, Ginevra, if not completely true, but don't become too attached. Please."

He was almost out of the library before I found my voice. "Not a problem, Harry," I whispered, but I was positive he heard me.

**A/N: Stalker/Creeper!Ginny – my favorite! And I congratulate Potterrr16 for correctly guessing the movie (first because several guessed it after)! **_**A Walk to Remember.**_

**And several people have brought this up, so I'll just tell everyone to prevent any more confusion: Harry is not a bookworm! Just because he was seen reading a book doesn't mean he's some school-crazed Hermione. I mean, I read books, and I'm not a bookworm****.**

**And WOWWWWWW, I never get this many reviews, so thanks :) I didn't realize this story would have gotten so much feedback, so thank you!!**

**P.S. I normally only update on weekends, as school and swimming and soon track take up much of my time, but I'll keep trying to update as soon as possible :)**


	4. Guilt

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Guilt**

_Damn, here we go again.  
Everybody sayin' what's not for him  
But everything I'm not, made me everything I am  
Damn, here we go again.  
People talkin shit, but when the shit hit the fan  
Everything I'm not, made me everything I am_

_Everything I Am _Kanye West

"Slow down!" I shrieked as Nate ran through the hallways, carrying me on his back. People turned to stare at us, mostly laughing at our playful behavior. They were used to my group of friends and me making a scene. We were loud, slightly obnoxious, rude, yet well-liked by a large portion of the student population. Even some Slytherins couldn't help but laugh at our antics. We were a known and liked crowd, and I always enjoyed that.

I liked the attention, and that was generally one of the reasons I didn't completely mind Nate racing me down the hall to meet our other friends in the courtyard, even if I was yelling at him the entire time.

We finally emerged from the stony corridor, dodging students along the way, and I yanked at Nate's hair to make him stop.

"Ow!" he yelled, suddenly dropping me, and I fell painfully on my arse. He brushed off his pants, not bothering to offer me a hand up.

"Jerk!" I exclaimed haughtily, pushing myself up and marching over to my other friends, who were leaning against part of the wall that surrounded the courtyard.

"What'd he do this time?" Carter asked, eying Nate, who was tenderly rubbing his head.

I raised an eyebrow at Carter. "Do you really have to ask?" I hopped up on the ledge of the open spaced window.

Carter snorted. "No, I don't suppose I do." Grumpily, Nate came over and glared at me, but I smirked and stuck my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes.

"You're so immature, Ginny," he grumbled.

"You're one to talk, Nathaniel Streisand," Colin obnoxiously pointed out.

Nate pushed at Colin lightly. "Don't call me that, you pompous git."

I tuned out their playful banter and stiffened a barely noticeable amount as I saw that messy mop of hair emerge. Vanessa, who sat beside me, though, took note of this. She pinched my arm lightly enough to get my attention, and I looked at her.

Her eyes were warning as she shook her head the tiniest bit. I quickly looked away, getting the message, if begrudgingly. I just couldn't help but notice him. I tried to stop it – I really did, but after that night in the library, it seemed even harder to keep my eyes off of him. His words kept echoing in my head: _"So, what have you decided…Not a shame, then…Those are all nice observations, Ginevra, if not completely true…don't become too attached."_ Attached? I wasn't attached, and if he thought I was becoming so, he was wrong. He was just so different that I had to observe him – it seemed only natural. And even if I was, why would he care? Did he hate me? Somehow, I couldn't imagine bright, kind Harry Potter hating anyone.

"Look who's coming over here? It's that Potter freak," Colin murmured snidely to us, and everyone besides me snickered. My head had just immediately snapped up to see him wearing his casual smile and walking that awkward stride, making his way over to us easily, as if he did it everyday of his life.

He looked directly at me when he finally reached our group, and small pool of dread welled up inside of me. I hadn't expected my of friends and him to ever come in contact with each other. While I didn't mind seeing him when no one was around to see, this was a very public display, around my friends nonetheless.

"Hello, Ginevra," he greeted me in his velvety voice. I could see my friends snickering amusedly behind their hands, but I didn't send a glance in their direction as I was mortified.

I tried to play it off cool although my heart was pounding. I smirked cockily and giggled cruelly. "Potter." His smile seemed to lower, no longer reaching his eyes, and my heart dropped a little.

"Well, my owl's off delivering a letter, so I decided I'd just tell you what this weekend's community service is; we're going to Warty Wendy's Wizarding Retirement Village in Hogsmeade to help them out a bit. Could you meet me in the Entrance Hall at ten o'clock, Sunday?" Colin let out a huge snort, and my heart sunk lower.

I held back my faux giggle this time but let my smirk remain. "Well, uh…" I hesitated and finally spared a glance at my friends. They were having fits. "I suppose I could open up my schedule a bit," I said carelessly.

His smile had dimmed almost completely, leaving behind a quiet curve of lips, nothing more, as he adjusted his bag a little on his shoulder. "Okay. Goodbye." And he flew past us quickly, leaving behind a fast-growing seed of guilt growing in my stomach, and my friends burst out loudly in laughter. I was sure Potter could still hear them, and the knowledge of that made me feel nauseous.

"_Ginevra,_" Colin crooned, and Carter, Nate, and Vanessa laughed harder.

This was something I could berate them about. "Oh, be quiet, Creevey." I expected the familiar bubble of playfulness to well up inside me at my words, but when I looked around at them, I only felt cold.

---

When I arrived in the Entrance Hall fifteen minutes late on Sunday, Potter looked at me and let out a small smile, nothing big, and the coldness I had become accustomed to feel since the courtyard encounter stabbed at my stomach harshly. I tried to return the smile, but I couldn't get my muscles to work. And, as he hadn't said anything, it almost seemed wrong of me to greet him with a "hello."

He silently led me off of the grounds, his bag with that large, red book in it. He had obviously had permission from Dumbledore to let us leave the grounds, and it might have even been Dumbledore's idea. But I wouldn't be surprised if Potter had thought the retirement village idea up all on his own – he was unnaturally thoughtful. And, as I again remembered how I had treated him in front of my friends, I couldn't help but be ashamed. I was the most cowardly Gryffindor: I couldn't even act how I wanted to when around my friends, or anyone else for that matter. I gave into peer pressure and materialistic ways without a thought. The strong remorse I had been feeling the past few days had made me begin to rethink my ways.

That was actually why I was late – I had been up in my dorm, thinking about how I had been acting my entire Hogwarts career. Well, that, and I was avoiding Colin, Carter, and Nate. They always ended bringing up Potter, which was followed by a tsunami of shame.

The retirement village was now visible – maybe five hundred yards away, and we hadn't said a word. Intending to fix this, I gently pulled on Potter's arm. He turned around to look at me, we stopped walking, and I found my entire mouth had gone dry.

My tongue felt thick and useless as I began to string together some sort of confession. "I – you – about a few days – I was really – "

"Don't worry about it," Potter assured me, obviously intending to move on, but I stopped him again.

"No, I'm sorry," I said earnestly. He wasn't smiling. I tried to explain. "It's just that they're my friends – they wouldn't get it – people like me don't mingle with people like you – wait – no – that's not what I meant. I – "

"I get it," Potter told me lightly. "The most popular girl in school would never be caught dead with the school freak." I detected an undertone of something I could almost identify as bitterness, but I couldn't be sure. "I just thought you were different from the rest," he muttered under his breath as he began walking again, faster this time, and his strides were even.

"No – wait! Harry – please – we could still be friends!" In a burst of desperation to stop his hurried footsteps, I hastily pulled on his bag, and it split open, his book falling out and opening to a random page.

There was an immense amount of textual writing on the book's open pages, but what made me stop and stare was a note in the margin, obviously written in the boy's own writing.

_#6. Make a friend._

Next to it a name was scribbled down only to be crossed out by several angry, splattered streaks, but I could still read it. _Ginevra Weasley._ My blood ran cold as a sense of deep regret spread through my entire body. It was perhaps the first time I ever truly realized how very lonely he must feel. No friends. No siblings. Dead mother at the hands of Voldemort – a famous wizard murder case from the time I was a baby. Apparently, his mother was loved by her friends and admired by everyone else. When Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts, everyone had expected him to be as well-liked as his mother and father, another greatly admired person. And, although Harry was probably the kindest person in the entire school, his weirder qualities had pushed others away, leaving him alone and alienated.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the book was snatched up from the dirt hastily, snapping shut. I looked up into Harry Potter's face to see a little bit of the panic that I had witnessed in the greenhouse emerge.

"I'm sorry!" I burst out, not knowing whether or not I was apologizing for ripping his bag, reading the obviously private entry, or betraying his trust by practically mocking him in front of my friends. Probably all three, but the second and third ones were the main ones on my mind.

_Make a friend. Ginevra Weasley._

A strained smile spread through Harry's now unusually flushed cheeks, and it was so forced it looked painful. And then, clutching the book tightly to his chest, he turned and began walking even faster towards the retirement village.

"Harry!" I shouted, but he didn't look back. I chased after him. "_Please!_ _Harry! _Please, _wait_," I pleaded. He stopped walking, but he didn't turn around to look at me.

I approached him very slowly from behind. "Harry…?" I asked hesitantly. I saw his jaw tense.

"You're pretty awful at making friends," he commented quietly, and I was glad to hear his voice's previous bitterness no longer lingered.

My first instinct normally would to have snorted and brought up his lack of friends, but right now, I understood where he was coming from. I had been a real shit to him. I probably wouldn't give myself the time of day if I had been the victim of my actions.

And it was then, on the chilly November morning, that I finally realized what I had been trying to decide since the first time I had spoken to Harry Potter. After two weeks of staring and watching, I had discovered what I wanted. And I wanted to know Harry. He was the most selfless person I had ever met. There was just something about him that drew me in. It was hard to keep being my usual, rude self around him, for the guilt I felt afterwards was overwhelming – it cut me to know that I was acting like everyone else towards him even though he'd shown us all nothing but compassion. I wanted Harry to be my friend, and if my friends, or soon to be ex-friends couldn't accept that, then so be it. If they weren't loyal enough to stick by my side after all these years of friendship, then I didn't want to be by their sides.

"I know," I said, nearly whispering but then asked hopefully, "Do you think you could give me another chance?"

And that was when Harry turned towards me, observing my face carefully, his emerald eyes masking his emotion. I couldn't read him, but then slowly, painfully slowly, he nodded.

I felt my face break out into a genuine smile. I almost hugged him. But, for now, just having him for good company was enough.

**A/N: What should I be doing? Oh, a little thing called school work. But since swimming is over as of last Saturday (Hooray!), I have much time on my hands.**

**I've decided on Nate's surname by looking at what was in my iTunes library. My little sister has some Broadway CD downloaded, and one of the songs was by Barbra Streisand. It seemed alright to me.**


	5. Embarrassment

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Embarrassment**

_Needless to say you're the one that I need  
The most  
Cause the only one I come undone for is you  
Oh the only one I come undone  
For is you  
The only one I come undone for is you_

_Come Undone_ Vanessa Carlton

Risks. We all take them at one point or another. To feel the thrill, perhaps. There are other risks that leave the stomach queasy with anxiousness and nervousness. I wasn't feeling any of those things, though, and at any other time than the present I would have considered the situation risky. But, as it was, I was completely sure of myself, if a bit self-conscious from the stares as well as the glares coming from my friends.

So, what was so risky on such a lovely Monday morning? It wasn't exactly much of a risk, but for my social status, it definitely was. I was eating breakfast with Harry Potter.

I had woken up today, deciding to make the better of the second chance Harry was giving me. My friends had yet to realize I was now acquainted with Harry, and I wasn't in the mood for a confrontation the night before, so I kept quiet. I had walked down to breakfast with Vanessa as usual, but, instead of following her lead and sitting with Nate, Colin, and Carter, I boldly kept walking until I was standing across from Harry.

I could feel eyes boringinto the back of my neck as I made the longer-than-usual walk between the tables.

"May I sit here?" I had asked in an out of character, small voice to Harry.

Harry, who was flipping through his red book attentively, nearly broke his neck he looked up so fast at me in clear surprise. He even stuttered through his response, something I'd never heard him do.

"Yeah! I mean – um – if you – want to- you know if you don't – oh – sorry – erm – yes." His face turned red, but he smiled shyly at me. I returned the smile and quietly took my place across from him.

And this is the point my friends started staring at me in disbelief and contempt, as well as many others. After all, I, Ginny Weasley, the has-been-most popular girl in school was sitting in now-and-forever outcast Harry Potter. But I didn't mind. In fact, I was rather content to fight the status quo.

Harry hastily closed and picked up the book but not before I could see another note in the margin:

_#17: Try Honeyduke's Fire Breathing Truffles._

"What are those numbers for?" I asked curiously. I made sure I sounded polite. It wouldn't do to get rid of Harry's trust before I barely began to gain it. I saw Harry hesitate, and his body tensed a little, but I didn't take back my question.

After a few short moments, Harry's less subdued grin appeared and he said, "They're just a few things that I feel like doing, Ginevra." For the first time, I smiled at the use of my full name. It almost seemed right when he said it. But, at the same time, I wasn't sure if I wanted word get round that I now responded to Ginevra.

"You can call me Ginny, Harry," I told him.

He smiled. "Alright."

"Why are you writing them in that book?" I pondered aloud. Fortunately, he answered, and he seemed less hesitant about doing so.

"It's _Hogwarts, A History_. It's number seven on the list – to read it. All of it," he told me, finally letting his bright smile come out.

I couldn't help but smile in return as small eddies ran down my back. "Oh?" I asked playfully. "And what else is on the list?"

Harry shook his head. "No way. Most are embarrassing," he laughed.

"I didn't think you could get embarrassed," I teased. He seemed to become reserved and embarrassed by my friendly disposition, and I giggled. But then, if anything, he got more embarrassed. I felt bad when I realized it was probably because he never actually got any attention of the positive kind. I stopped giggling immediately as I didn't want to make him feel awkward.

"I'm sure there are one or two you could tell me. I could help you do them, even!" I suggested, suddenly overcome with the urge to get involved with him someway other than my community service hours. I already had twelve of them completed.

His enormous smile emerged again, and my stomach felt warm. "If you really want to," he said. "You don't have to."

I just shook my head and leaned in towards him. "No, I want to." I brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "What's number one on your list?" I asked him quietly, although there was no need as no one was within three seats of us, and the loud chatter around us hid our conversation. His gaze flickered up to meet mine. His emerald eyes sparkled, and I couldn't look away. He smiled but began to shake his head.

"That's one of the embarrassing ones," he murmured.

I leaned back again, but I was still looking at his pale face with interest. "I'll figure it out one day, Harry Potter," I decided as if I was certain.

His grin sunk into an almost sad smile. But it reached his eyes, so I wasn't sure if he was unhappy. "Maybe," he shrugged indifferently.

Breakfast was soon finished, and I rose, as did Harry and the rest of the Great Hall. As we got past the table barrier between us and into the Entrance Hall, I started walking next to Harry.

And so came the confrontation. As Harry and I were some of the last people out of the Great Hall, most of the crowd had cleared. And then I saw my friends standing by the stairs, blocking the way to my first class. Harry, who seemed oblivious to the intimidating group, walked towards them, talking to me quietly the entire time. I never realized that he was so talkative. Nor did anyone else ever realize that, and it made me sad.

"… and that was when I thought that the, oh…," he trailed off as he looked down at me and saw my tight gaze aimed at the four students by the stairs.

I bravely kept walking though, Harry now a little more hesitantly following. I was intending to walk past them even though I knew that wouldn't work. Sadly enough, I knew they wouldn't care about confronting me in front of Harry. They weren't polite people, and, just like in the courtyard, they would humiliate him. But this time I'd stick by his side.

And, just as I predicted, Vanessa reached out and grabbed my arm before I could even touch the second step. Behind me, I could hear Harry stop walking.

"Yes?" I asked evenly, looking around at the outraged faces of Colin, Nate, and Vanessa. Carter was standing there with his face impassive. He looked like he didn't know whether or not he should be there. I felt a small surge of appreciation and pity for Carter. He was always the most reasonable, considerate person of the group when it came to others. He had a conscience, and I knew he would have trouble choosing between me and the rest, as he wouldn't want to lose anyone. But I had known him for years, and I was almost positive he would stay with Colin, Nate, and Vanessa.

"What're you doing here with this fucking sod?" Colin asked blatantly.

"Are you talking about yourself?" I asked innocently, trying to suppress my anger. "Because, if that's the case, I was just leaving."

I turned to leave again, but I was once more pulled back. "_What?_" I said, irritated.

"What changed your mind, Ginny?" Vanessa asked viciously. "You promised you would stay away from the freak, but now you've gone back on your word."

I raised my head high, pulling my arm away, hard, and Vanessa had no choice but to let go. I stumbled back, almost falling, but Harry caught me and gently righted me again. I looked quickly up at him, and his face was impassive and apathetic. I didn't know what he was thinking.

I looked back at Vanessa. "My mind never had to be changed, Vanessa," I told her coldly. "It wasn't a hard choice to make."

"So, you're telling me you're going to abandon us to go gallivant around the castle with the local weirdo, doing who knows what, than be with the friends you've known for years?" Nate asked me. "You're not one of us the moment you turn and leave with that… that… _abomination_."

I huffed, my blood boiling from their words and their words in front of _Harry_. "First of all, Harry's _not_ a weirdo. He's got more going for him than all of you put together. He's kind, thoughtful… unlike _you_. He doesn't boast around like he owns the place. He doesn't act like he's a better person than everyone, even though he most definitely is. He's humble, something I'm sure you've never heard of,_ Nathan_."

"As I recall, you were one of _us_ just yesterday!" Nate yelled.

"Yes. I was," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "And it was stupid. Dumb. The most idiotic, degrading thing I could have done to myself. But not anymore! I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of being an arsehole! I'm through being _fake!_ And you should be, too!"

I noticed a small crowd had circled around the base of the steps. I turned away, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away from the scene, walking quickly up the steps.

Colin yelled at us as we walked away. "So, that's it? You're leaving us? Just like that? For that _freak! _Well, fine! _We're through! _Don't expect me to ever go after you again!"

I turned around angrily, releasing Harry from my near death grip. "Like I'd want you to! We _never_ had anything, Colin! You're insensitive, and all you care about is yourself. And if any of you ever want to talk to me again, I suggest you reform yourselves!" With that, I stormed away, pulling Harry along by the hand. He followed compliantly and silently.

When we were several floors and corridors away, I finally slowed to a stop, trying to steady my breath. The corridor was empty. The adrenaline I had been feeling disappeared, and all I felt was weak. My legs gave out from underneath me, and I nearly fell to the ground. Again, Harry caught me, and I collapsed in his arms.

I wrapped my arms around him, shaking. Tentatively, I could feel his arms wrap around my body. He didn't seem to know where to place his hands. Finally, they wrapped around my upper and lower back completely. I felt so small and safe in his warm, lanky arms. As I buried my head in his chest, I tried to suppress my tears of frustration, but I felt a few slip out. I sniffed hastily, inhaling his scent. It was a nice scent: clean laundry and freshly mown grass.

"They had no right to say those things about you," I moaned into his chest, my voice muffled and wet. I felt a strong hand rub my hair gently down my back.

"It's fine," Harry muttered in my ear, his breath tickling the side of my neck. I shook my head but didn't say anything. "Did you mean what you said?" Harry asked hesitantly.

I pulled back to look up at his face, but I didn't release my hold on him; he was too warm and comfy.

His eyes searched mine, and the slight crease in his forehead made him look worried and vulnerable. "Of course," I reassured him.

"And you're not just talking to me because you feel bad for me?" he asked again, the vulnerability on his face edging into his voice.

"No!" I said. "Why would you think that?"

Harry hesitated and looked away and down the corridor. He didn't look at me as he answered. "You saw number six," he muttered.

I felt tears spring to my eyes and my stomach hurt as I thought about the scribbled message in his book. "That's not why I'm here with you at all, Harry," I assured him. "I meant what I said back there. You're the best person I've ever known. I know I've acted like a real prat, but you make me want to change, Harry. I want to be better for you." I leaned my head back against his chest in a sort of reassurance.

"Thanks," he muttered. I laughed.

"Anytime," I said.

Before I could get lost in his embrace, the bell rang, making us both jump.

"Oh, damn, we're going to be late," I complained, regretfully pulling out of his embrace. He looked over at me shyly through his fringe, and I swear I felt my heart speed up.

"I'll summon your books for you if you'd like," he offered quietly, as if he was afraid of what I'd say. I felt a small smile grace my lips as I nodded. "_Accio books_," Harry commanded. Within a minute, I saw my books along with my bag float down the corridor. He caught them and handed them over to me.

As I properly adjusted myself, I felt him watching me curiously. I looked up. "What?" I asked. "Do I have something on my face? My hair?" My hands ran over my cheeks, eyes, and hair.

Harry shook his head. "No. You're perfect," he told me. My stomach lurched pleasantly at his words. _You're perfect_. I smiled at him fondly before stepping up on my tiptoes and leaning over towards Harry. I quickly kissed him on the cheek before I lost my nerve and withdrew hastily.

He was looking at me in surprise, and I felt some myself. "I've got to go to class. See you later, yeah?" I asked, desperately hoping he would let me 'see him later.'

Quickly, eagerly almost, he answered, "Yeah! Um – okay. At what place? Do you care where? Or just whenever? Or –"

I smiled at him before interrupting his nervous rant. I had just meant that perhaps we could see each other later after classes. I hadn't actually planned on making a place and time to meet. "We'll meet up at lunch and after classes," I assured him.

He nodded, his face turning bright red. "Yeah, so – um – see you," he said, smiling.

I beamed at his antics before slowly walking away and making my way towards charms.


	6. Love

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Love**

_Tell me that you love me, and it'll be alright.  
Are you thinking of me?  
Just come with me tonight.  
You know I need you.  
Just like you need me.  
Can't stop, won't stop, I must be dreaming._

_I Must Be Dreaming_ The Maine

I sat alone that day. In Charms, I walked into the classroom, saw the seat I normally sat in occupied by bags, books, and a few glares; I hurriedly looked around to find an empty seat, which, unfortunately, was at the front of the classroom. I was never one of those students to want to sit right up close to the teacher. Or far away for that matter, as teachers paid most attention to kids lurking in the back. The middle was where I preferred as it was easy to escape from a professor's notice in the midst of the crowd.

It had been a lonely experience but one I was willing to repeat if necessary. In fact, I knew I was going to have to repeat it as my only current companion was a year older than me in school, and one could say not too welcome among my peers.

The bell ringed, and I stood up in relief, ready to leave. It was hell sitting there, having people glare at me – people the day before I considered friends. I eagerly hurried towards the back of the room to escape through the classroom's door, but I was stopped by a harsh ripping noise.

My bag had split open, and for a brief moment I looked up from the books, splattered ink bottles, broken quills, and soiled homework to meet the vicious gaze of Vanessa. Her flaming stare tore through me harshly, puncturing what felt like a hole in my chest. My heart slowed lethargically under my breast in an effort to keep beating as I saw her tuck her wand back into her own bag, a satisfied smirk adorning her dark, handsome features.

It was in that moment, not the fight we had had before class, which I knew it would be hard pressed if Vanessa and I ever spoke again civilly, and, shamed, I felt lonely and almost empty. Vanessa and I had been best friends since the first week at Hogwarts, and it almost seemed wrong to lose her like this. It was such a simple matter to break apart about, yet she was close minded, and I was just breaking free of that state myself. All I could do was grin and bare it for the moment.

And, as Charms had been a double period, it was time for lunch. I solemnly stayed behind and fixed my bag as the rest of the class filed out. I saw Flitwick quickly follow, muttering something about cursed armor that he had to deal with.

"Hey, Ginny." My head snapped up. It was Carter. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, and he rubbed the toe of his shoe into a rut in the floor. He looked self-conscience.

"Oh," I said, almost monotone. "What's up?"

Carter didn't answer as he bent over to retrieve my books. He pulled out his wand and vanished most of the ink that had seeped out onto my books when a bottle broke. He held them out to me, and I wordlessly took them, observing his features.

"I may not especially like Potter, but I don't hate him. If you need a friend, I'll still be here," Carter murmured quietly.

I smiled softly at him, a warm feeling flooding through my stomach. I knew I could count on Carter to be reasonable enough to talk to me and make peace. But, while I appreciated his effort and would take his words to heart, I was still sure he would hang around my old friends more. "Thanks, mate." He nodded briskly and turned, walking out into the corridor and farther away from me.

I waited another minute before sighing, slinging my newly fixed bag over my shoulder and making my way towards another meal.

---

It was a few Saturdays past, and I was sitting quietly beside Harry in the library. It was a cold, biting afternoon, and the warm castle offered solace. His presence had been a constant highlight of my week. He was the only person I remained in friendly contact with besides the professors and an occasional nod from Carter.

But, while some might find this irritating and lonely, I didn't sink into a depression. Instead, I had been, for the most part, content. I spent every meal with Harry, every free period with Harry, after classes with Harry… everywhere, it seemed, I was with Harry.

It was surprising, really, how much we seemed fit for one another. He had a response to everything I said, and I him. If I tugged the words out of his mouth, he would willingly comply. He liked to talk. He talked a lot.

He asked me things. My family. My interests. My beliefs. I answered, and when I asked him these things, he seemed willing enough to comply.

Family? _My father raised me. He died just a year ago. I'm now in the care of my relatives. They're not too kind to me, so I don't think too much about them. I think about him a lot – my father. He was the best man I ever knew._

How did he die? _Cancer. Leukemia, to be exact. Most wizards don't get it, but there's a long chain of it in my background, and, well, he got it when I was ten, and I…_

Interests? _Astronomy. The thrill to feel so small – looking up at the billions upon billions of stars – it's humbling. And _flying_. Not Quidditch, so much, but just being in the air – it's like astronomy – there's the endless air, and you're just the speck floating through it._

Beliefs? _Just… don't regret anything. I regret many things, but I'm working on not._

Is that why you have the list? _Yeah, I guess. I mean, it's more of just a guideline than anything. If I don't meet all of them, I'll know I tried. And the only regret I can have is not trying to meet each and every one._

Number one? _I don't think you're ready for that one._

Harry was interesting. Unique. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. He was so easy going, and I just couldn't understand how I never recognized him for the gem he was.

I looked up at him over my book. The library was one of the few places we could be and not be disturbed, where he seemed most at ease. His shaggy black hair was everywhere, but it was a happy everywhere – not as distressed as usual. He seemed at peace.

His eyes were sparkling as he looked up at me as if sensing my gaze.

"Hey," he said quietly, a small smile gracing his lips.

I returned the grin effortlessly. "Hey."

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked me.

I laughed, looking outside: it was flaking, and the ground was covered in heavy snow. "It's a little chilly."

"Oh, you can stand a little December frost," Harry teased. "We'll get our warm clothes."

"Gloves, hats, and scarves?" I inquired.

"The whole lot."

I nodded, finally convinced. "Alright. As long as you promise I'll stay warm."

Harry laughed, "I'll strip myself bare if it's enough for you to stop complaining."

"Oh, be quiet, you," I said sternly, looping his arm through mine as we made our way out of the library.

We went up to the dorms for warm clothes, and in no time we were making our way out onto the grounds and into the remaining daylight. The grounds were empty – it seemed as if it was cold enough that the smart people were staying inside. I said as much to Harry, and he just laughed.

The air was crisp and it scratched at my nose, but it was refreshing. I led our downwards slope down the slippery path, and we made it to the frozen lake before Harry said something.

"Number ten," he murmured in my ear, leaning close as if it were a secret. And to him, I suppose it was.

"And what would that be?" I asked in the same tone, leaning towards him in the same manner.

"Learn to ice skate."

"Well, I'll just have to teach you then."

I grabbed Harry's gloved hand with my own and led him out onto the ice after testing it a few times with my weight.

We walked about twenty feet out when I turned to him.

"Alright," I murmured, facing him and grabbing both of his hands in mine. "Just… follow my lead." I looked up at his face, and he stared right back. He was smiling nicely, and my pulse sped up.

I began sliding my booted feet along the ice. He followed, stumbling into me occasionally. His weight caused me to almost fall a few times, accompanied by his adorable, "Sorry."

It was only about four minutes later when he was finally getting the hang of things. I myself wasn't too used to ice skating – especially with boots.

We continued on for a long while, occasionally parting hands, and Harry started to experiment with various tricks, often resulting in a sore rear end.

My stomach was sore with laughter as he and I joined back together. I latched into his arms, curling mine around his shoulders. The impact made us both topple over onto the ice – I on top of him.

"_Oof!_" Harry exclaimed, falling onto his back. I lay completely on top of him, our noses mere inches apart.

I started laughing, and after a few moments, Harry started to too.

"Magnificent, Harry!" I praised. "Brilliant skating!"

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said in an overly posh voice.

I giggled, and the quiet laugh did well to humble us both. I suddenly noticed that I was quite firmly attached to Harry and not letting go. My face was near his as I hovered above him. I could feel his arms around my back and my legs intertwined with his. His breath kissed my face.

Not wanting to move, yet knowing I had to say something, I stupidly murmured, "I hope I'm not crushing you."

Harry shook his head, his smile and laughter gone, and I could feel mine disappear as well. It was replaced with a tension. Not awkward, but it was heavy and a bit suffocating. "Not at all." He seemed breathless. We stared at each other for an eternity it seemed, and I felt breathless too. I tried to inhale, but a wall in my chest stopped the air, and my vision went fuzzy.

"Harry," I whispered, and steam rushed out of my mouth to meet the cold air.

"Yes?" he asked. He sounded nervous. I felt so, too.

"Harry, can I kiss you?" I licked my lips, barely believing I had just asked him if I could kiss him. My heart felt like it would explode. I could feel my hands shaking on his shoulders lightly.

"I don't know how," he said, and his eyes were wide, staring into mine. He sounded even more nervous than before. Insecurity leaked into his voice. He was more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him – his green eyes open wide and staring into mine beneath the silly spectacles that I'd grown to love.

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter," I assured him. All I knew was that in that moment every ounce of being in my body wanted to let my head fall five inches and press my lips against his.

"Harry," I murmured breathlessly, almost anxious. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

Harry didn't say anything. His chest was rising up and down rapidly under mine. His eyes were wide, and his pale face was flushed. And then, in a span of time that seemed infinitely longer than what it was in reality – in a rush of adrenaline – I leaned down and pressed my lips firmly against his.

Our chapped lips rubbed up against each other, and I swear my heart stopped beating. I felt my skin flush, and I felt ridiculously hot in the cold weather. Should I have really put on so many layers? There was a stream of air released from his mouth and into mine in near relief, and I shivered. It was so intimate. It seemed almost too mature for me. What I was feeling right now – I had never felt it before. It felt like my heart would falter and I was dizzy and I could pass out and my head was spinning and my fingers ached and my entire body felt on _fire _and I thought I would die of pleasure.

All because of a kiss. I had kissed boys before, but not like _this_. Not with this insecurity and need and passion and feeling of rightness and wrong all at once. I had never felt so _completely enamored _by a kiss. The kiss only lasted a few seconds – our lips just brushing down on each other in a completely foreign intimate touch.

I had pulled back to see his reaction. A shaking, gloved hand touched my face as Harry stared up at me in wonder. I imagined I had a similar look on my face. His eyes were wet, and I felt as if my own were too. It was so _right_. I felt happier than I had in what seemed like forever.

I reached up and laced my fingers through his ebony hair – something I'd been wanting to do for weeks. It was soft and messy and perfect and fell through my hands like water. My other hand came up and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and barely leaned into it.

All of the feelings I had been feeling and felt were finally coming to the surface all at once, and it was almost too much to handle. "Oh, how I love you, Harry," I moaned in near relief. I didn't even notice I said it aloud until Harry let in a sharp intake of breath. I meant it.

I pressed my lips against his again in another wonderful, glorious kiss. He pushed his head up from the ice and increased the pressure on my mouth. Something wet touched my face, and I slowly peeled my lips off his to see his face slightly wet. His face went even redder if possible as he hastily attempted to wipe the tears.

I stopped his hand from reaching his face, and I kissed his cheek. "It's alright, Harry," I whispered soothingly in his ear before I pulled away from it.

He looked up at me, doubt and disbelief coating the emerald orbs. I kissed his other cheek. "Believe me."

I stared up at him, willing him to listen. I loved him. I _loved_ him. _I _loved _him_.

I loved Harry.

Slowly, imperceptibly, he nodded his head. I closed my eyes, and I rested my head against his chest, intertwining our bodies further on the numbing ice. But, although the crisp air scraped at my back as I buried myself into Harry, all I felt was warm.

**A/N: I apologize for the excessive gooiness. I normally try to avoid it, and normally I hate using it and reading it. But I got over my fear of sounding cheesy and Twilightesque and just went with it. **

_**Login/submission area is currently inaccessible due to a technical glitch. We apologize for the brief inconvenience. Please come back in a few minutes.**_

**And I would have updated sooner if the login button would work. It has been in "a brief inconvenience" state for like 5 days, and it made me really pissed off. Like, I dropped the f bomb like 30 times. Sorry that I have an awful temper :( I was pretty upset when I couldn't update. I love to update! It makes you and me both happy.**


	7. Worry

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Worry**

"I suppose I can cross off numbers two and three," Harry murmured casually beside me. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders as we slowly made our way back to the castle. It was nearing sunset, and there was only so long we could lie on a frozen lake without getting hypothermia. I leaned in towards him more, resting my head against his chest as we walked.

"And number ten," I reminded him.

"And that," he agreed. I felt his chest rumble warmly underneath my head.

"What were numbers two and three anyways?" I asked curiously. Even after a couple weeks of persistence, he still wouldn't tell me his top three list items.

I felt warm, dry lips press to the top of my wool hat. "I'll show you once we get inside."

I twisted my head up to look at his face, raising a curious eyebrow. He smirked, and I smiled, letting my curious expression dissipate. Harry made me feel slap-happy. I leaned up and gave him another snow-melting kiss.

I pulled away. "Don't forget," I told him sternly, but my eyes were smiling as I looked at him.

"I won't," Harry insisted earnestly.

"You better not," I muttered as we entered the castle. The Great Hall, which was just off to the side of the Entrance Hall, was full. "I didn't even realize it was time for dinner."

We stopped a short ways away to pull off our hats, coats, and gloves. A cool, smooth hand found mine, and I looked up at Harry to see a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I know somewhere else we can eat," was all he said before smiling secretively, biting his lip, and pulling me along past the Great Hall.

"And _where_ exactly are you taking me?" I asked him.

"You'll see," he said vaguely.

"_Must_ you always be so mysterious?" I moaned, but I was secretly thrilled with Harry's behavior – I suppose that was nothing new as I was nearly _always_ thrilled with Harry's behavior. He was exciting.

He turned his head around to smirk at me. "Yes," he said simply.

I sighed, resigned to the fact that I'd never figure out anything Harry didn't want me to.

It was a dead end – he had pulled me down six flights of stairs and down a vast amount of corridors only to reach a dead end. So, I was confused when he kept walking towards the wall.

"Erm – Harry, what are you –" I stopped talking as Harry tickled a pear in a portrait. It opened, revealing an entryway.

He walked back towards me and grabbed my hand. "You'll catch flies that way," he commented. I quickly closed my mouth and rolled my eyes.

He led me into a large, busy room. Stoves and appliances were everywhere. House Elves were scurrying right and left. Dishes floated in front of my face, only to drop in a soapy tub of water. The smell was intoxicating – potatoes, roasts, dessert. I scanned over the room once more, and I saw, in the corner, a table fit for about six normal sized people.

"Wow," I said, attempting to keep my mouth closed as I gazed around at the overwhelming room.

Harry grinned at my reaction, running his hand through his hair. Quite suddenly a series of about ten House Elves scurried up to us, all pushing and talking at once, eager to get us food apparently.

My mouth dropped again, but Harry seemed almost used to the situation and just asked, "Is Dobby here?" The House Elves affirmed he was, and they left, an elf with an interesting collection of socks left behind in their wake.

"Harry Potter, sir!" the enthusiastic elf exclaimed.

"Hullo, Dobby," Harry greeted politely. "This is Ginny Weasley."

"Oh, Dobby would be happy to get Harry Potter and his Wheezy their dinner!" I blushed at _his Wheezy_, despite the truth it held. Harry told the elf what he wanted, asking for my input. I told the elf what I wanted, and he quickly left, no doubt preparing our food. Harry led us over to the table in the corner. I sat down beside him.

I looked back at the room, fascinated with the work of the elves. I felt Harry's eyes on my face, and I turned to look at him. He had an odd expression on his face. It wasn't happy, but it wasn't exactly sad.

"What're you thinking about?" I asked gently. I reached out and gently took his hand in mine, tracing patterns on his palm.

"It's just…" He stopped talking and seemed to deflate. He looked at our intertwined hands. I rubbed a thumb over his knuckles.

"What?" I asked, now worried. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't respond for a few moments, and when he did, he let out a strangled whisper: "You're so pretty."

My stomach swooped at his compliment, but I still felt like there was something he wanted to tell me. He seemed close to tears. He wouldn't look at me. I was going to ask him again what was wrong, but at that moment our food arrived.

He seemed grateful for the distraction and dug in eagerly, pulling his hand from mine. We ate silently, which was unusual as Harry always seemed to have something to say during meals. Something was wrong – I knew that much, but Harry didn't seem willing to tell me.

I felt hurt, but I knew it was irrational. It wasn't any of my business to know his secrets, but I suppose I felt as if I deserved to know them in some way after our confessions earlier that day. I quickly pushed away my hurt, though, and vowed to do my best to make sure nothing was wrong with Harry.

The meal was over soon without a word, and in that time I had only grown more worried for Harry. What was bothering him?

We got up and thanked the elves for the meal before leaving. He was quiet as we walked through the halls, and his arm was tenderly wrapped around my shoulders.

The common room was full when we got there. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Harry exclaimed. "Stay here!"

After watching his back retreat up the boy's staircase, I went to sit down on a window seat, gazing out at the snowy grounds far below – it would have been frightening if I didn't know that magic prevented anyone from falling out of the tower's windows. I sighed, still wondering what was up with Harry.

It was only a minute before Harry returned with his bag and red book in hand. I looked up at him curiously.

"My list, remember?" he reminded me, grinning and suddenly back to his normal self. He didn't have that foreign, unnerving look in his eye any longer. I was relieved, but I couldn't help but wonder when the next time he would act like that.

"Oh, yes!" I said enthusiastically. "Hand it over!" I held out my arms expectantly.

He chuckled, dropping the book in my waiting fingers. I looked up at him again. "Pages forty-three and seventy-nine."

I flipped it open to seventy-nine first.

_#3: Fall in love._

I smiled at him, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He blushed and looked down and his hands. I grinned wider at his shyness. He was so cute sometimes.s

I flipped back to fifty-three.

_#2: Be loved in return._

I sighed dreamily and stared at his messy handwriting. I looked up at him affectionately. He was looking determinedly outside at the falling snow.

"Thank you for showing this to me, Harry," I told him quietly. He looked over at me underneath his lashes, and I was about to hand him back the book when he shook his head.

"Page seven," he said quietly, self-consciously.

Slowly, I turned the pages back. Page nine, page eight, page… seven.

I stared at the entry for a moment, and tears filled up my eyes. I bit them back. The entry was so sweet and obviously heartfelt as it had come from Harry. Lonely Harry. Kind Harry. Loving Harry.

_#1: Start a family with the one I love._

Off in the side margins my name was written. Quietly, gently, I closed the book and set it aside. I scooted over to Harry and wrapped my arms around him. He shuddered in my embrace and then returned it.

"I'll make it happen, Harry," I promised quietly in his ear. He pressed his hand against the back of my hair and with one, loving stroke, I was unexplainably touched. He pulled back. He seemed even more vulnerable than ever, in the full common room.

I knew we were getting looks, as I probably looked rather emotional. That and the fact I had just displayed a great deal of affection towards my supposed friend.

I found I didn't care, as I quietly talked to Harry the rest of the night of how I planned to live out my life. He was a large part of it.

As I explained, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes contentedly. The common room started to clear out.

"Harry?" I whispered, checking to see if he was awake. He didn't stir, breathing deep, even breaths. I picked up his book, intending to put it away in his bag. I was about to store it inside when something caught my eye.

There was a bottle in his bag. I picked it up, and it contained a clear liquid. I flipped it over and read the label. _Proleukin_. It sounded like some sort of Muggle medicine. Was Harry sick? A renewed, stronger sense of worry overtook me. It was more intense than earlier today, and a feeling that resembled panic started to overtake me. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. There was no reason to freak out. I had no idea what this stuff was, and there was a perfectly normal explanation as to why Harry had it. I kept trying to rationalize with myself, but I knew something must be wrong.

The book that had been resting on my lap suddenly fell off, landing with a loud thud on the ground. Harry started to stir, and I quickly returned the bottle back in his bag, picking up the book and placing it in there, too.

"Hey," Harry murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Hey," I said, letting a nice smile grace my features, despite the war raging inside me.

I was so worried about Harry. His pale complexion suddenly seemed too sickly. I scooted a little closer, noticing purple bags around his eyes. The first community service project came to mind, and I remembered the unnatural sweating and his hurried escape. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but now I wasn't too sure.

"Tired?" I asked. He was too skinny, but he ate a lot. I didn't understand. High metabolism? But that didn't seem quite right.

He nodded. "I'm going to go to bed I think," he told me quietly.

He leaned over and kissed my temple. "Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," I replied, "I love you."

He smiled widely. "I love you too."

I went to bed feeling content with our relationship, but I wanted to know what was wrong with Harry.

**A/N: ****I hate writing dialogue for house elves, so I kept it as brief as possible. It's hard to write how they speak. Same with Hagrid, so I won't be using him in my stories often.**


	8. Anguish

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Anguish**

_No thank you no thank you no thank you no thank you  
I ain't about to to die like this  
I can afford chemo like I can afford a limo  
And besides this shit is making me tired  
it's making me tired  
it's making me tired  
You know I plan to retire some day,  
And I'm gonna go out in style  
go out in style_

_Chemo Limo_ Regina Spektor

"So you're sending this to a convicted murderer."

"Yup."

"_Why?_" I asked, completely confused with why Harry would send sweets and letters to a man in prison who killed one of his best friends.

"Because I believe him," Harry said simply, checking the brown string on his owl's foot to make sure they were tied correctly. Once he affirmed the package was safe, he sent the owl out. The snowy owl blended into the primarily white background as it became a tiny speck in the distance.

"And what do you believe him about?"

"That he didn't kill Peter Pettigrew," Harry explained. He leaned up against a bird poop covered window sill. I looked at where he leaned up against in distaste. I didn't much care for the owlery. There were a great deal too many droppings.

"And why would you believe that?" I asked incredulously. Harry never stopped surprising me. "Sirius Black sold out your position to Voldemort when you were a baby so he could kill your family and succeeded in killing your mother. He then chased after Pettigrew when he couldn't find your father and you and killed him and thirteen bystanders."

Harry just shook his head sadly. "My father never believed that. Sirius was sent straight to prison before he could stand trial. My dad worked for years to get a fair trial for Sirius and prove his innocence, but the Wizengamot would never listen. They always had more important things to do than admit they made a mistake. And then my father died –" he stuttered for a moment " – he died before we could get to Sirius." For one of the first times, I heard Harry sound bitter. Very bitter. Angry even.

I was very quiet, cautious, as I asked him, "How exactly do you _know_ that he's innocent?" For the first time, I didn't know that Harry was going to be completely calm and collected about the situation.

But my fears were never met, and Harry was just as controlled as normal, if a bit angrier. "He wasn't the secret keeper," Harry managed. "_Pettigrew_ was." He spat out the name. "We were hiding from Voldemort so he couldn't kill my parents – aurors and all that, they were wanted – and Pettigrew _went_ to him – _found _him and gave him our location. Me and dad were out." He closed his eyes tight shut for a moment. "We should've all been killed." He opened his eyes and looked at me. There was a gleam in his eye that I could only describe as fury.

I shook my head, not wanting his anger or self-loathing to progress any further. "Don't go blaming yourself for this, Harry, you were a baby." Harry didn't deserve to feel responsible for his mother's death – he had no control over it. "Blame Voldemort." I walked up to him and grasped his hands in mine. They were cold, so I gripped them tighter.

He chose to stare out the window rather than at me. He didn't speak, and all I heard were owls hooting and rustling. I decided to take a different route that didn't sound so patronizing. "You know, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," I said, sounding optimistic.

My tone startled Harry, and he finally decided to look at me. "Excuse me?" He was surprised.

"I'm sure that old Dark Lord wouldn't mind taking the blame for your mother's death, so don't worry yourself with it. It happened too long ago for it to still bother you as much as it does," I explained. I hoped I didn't sound insensitive, but how else would I knock sense into Harry? I didn't really fancy comforting and cajoling him – I wasn't too comfortable with that, and I'm sure he wouldn't be either. He didn't need or want to be babied; what he needed was common sense.

Harry stared at me but not with anger. I felt relieved. I'd never before seen Harry out of control or truly angry, and I didn't want to start now. He hesitantly opened his mouth to speak. "But, it's m–"

"Harry, it's not. Your. Fault," I said slowly and clearly. I could see he was about to protest again, and I finally said in a harsh voice, "It's not your fault, Harry! It's Voldemort's because he's a dumb, vindictive asshole. Not you! Did you kill your mother? No. Were you the secret keeper? No. Were you a helpless baby? Why yes, you were. So, obviously, since you were a baby, you couldn't control anything even if you tried, as you probably couldn't speak or move around properly. Now stop being dense."

Harry opened and closed his mouth, doing a wonderful impression of a fish. His eyes were wide and contemplative. I just looked at him in triumph. Finally, deciding he couldn't find any words to say in response, he just nodded.

I smiled at him broadly. "Now let's get out of here – there are thousands of droppings everywhere in here, and it's really getting to me." I shivered in disgust. Harry, though, mistaking it as a shiver from the cold, took off his jacket quickly and handed it to me.

I shook my head quickly. "No, Harry I'm fine, really. You get cold really easily – keep it."

Harry hesitated. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Positive." Harry still looked unsure, but he shrugged his jacket back on. Christmas break was only a few days away, and it would be hitting the coldest part of the year in a couple weeks. Whenever we went outside and I took his hands, they were absolutely freezing. I could understand them being cold, but they were even like that inside. The only time they were ever really warm was when we I snuggled up to him. That was normally only because of my body heat.

We left the owlery talking, and I took his hand, knowing they would be cold, but I wanted to keep it as warm as possible.

---

It was when we were tutoring those Hufflepuff kids, a day before break, that Harry had another weird episode. But, this time, I paid as close attention as possible. Our lesson with them was almost over when he started going paler than usual. I waited until the lesson was over and the Hufflepuffs gone before asking him about it – I wasn't sure whether or not he would want me mentioning his well-being in front of them.

Harry was quickly packing up, faster than usual, and I placed a hand on his arm to slow his actions.

"Harry, are you alright?" I asked. I leaned in closer towards him to see a thin layer of perspiration on his white forehead.

"Yeah, no, I mean yeah," he stuttered out breathlessly, shoving the last of his books into his bag.

"Are you sure?" I asked, worried.

Harry jerkily nodded his head. "Yeah, of course…" He ran a hand through his hair and it seemed to linger a little longer than necessary on his forehead. Did he have a headache? "Erm… I just remembered something…," he murmered.

"What is it?"

"I have to go to the Hospital Wing… to help… Madam Pomfrey," he gasped, his breaths starting to come in heavy and labored.

"You need help, Harry," I told him urgently. I felt panic settle into my stomach as he shook his head and attempted to shakily leave the library on his own. He stumbled and would have tripped had I not been there to steady him.

"Come on, Harry," I murmured calmly, but inside a tornado was beginning to churn.

Harry didn't seem to have it in him to argue as I led him out of the library, and that made me more scared. A weak Harry was worse than a stubborn Harry.

Luckily, the Hospital Wing was on the same floor and only a few short corridors away. By the time we got there, Harry's breathing had worsened, and he was being heavily supported by me.

"Madam Pomfrey!" I shouted as soon as I was near the door of the Hospital Wing. "_Madam Pomfrey!_" I shrieked again as I nearly dragged Harry inside. He was starting to lose consciousness.

The nurse rushed out of her office quickly. She saw the situation and immediately rushed over. I didn't even look at her as she rushed over. I kept my eyes on Harry. I could feel tears beginning to form.

"I don't know what's wrong!" I sobbed. "I don't know!"

"I know, dear, I know," the nurse murmured quickly. "Now help me get Mr. Potter into a bed." I didn't even question her as I helped lay Harry in a nearby bed.

The nurse rushed away to get some paramedics. I knelt next to Harry's bed, taking a cold hand and rubbing my cheek against it.

"Gi… nee…," Harry wheezed, attempting to keep his head turned and eyes focused on me. He was so pale and tired looking.

I kissed the palm of his hand. "Shh, love," I whispered tearfully.

"Miss Weasley, you're going to have to step back. I need to treat Mr. Potter," the nurse said kindly but briskly. I nodded and reluctantly stood up and away, kissing Harry's hand once more.

As soon as I was a few yards away, the nurse took a vial out of her apron and measured out a small amount of the potion in a small cup. I didn't know what it was.

"Do you think you're able to drink this, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Harry feebly nodded his head, and my eyes welled up with tears once more. Seeing him in this weak state really scared me. His breathing was still harsh.

I looked away as Harry drank the potion, his head propped up on a few pillows. I took a moment to recollect myself, and I hastily wiped my eyes.

I turned around to see Harry's chest rising less rapidly, but his face was still pale and sweaty.

I looked at Madam Pomfrey. "What happened to him?" I asked fearfully.

She shook her head sadly. "I think it would be best if Mr. Potter were to tell you on his own. It's not my place to say anything. I'm sorry, Miss Weasley."

I walked up to his bedside, hearing Madam Pomfrey follow me, and I knew Harry was conscious. His eyes were open, but he refused to look at me. I sighed sadly.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that I'm going to have you spend the night."

Harry sighed reluctantly but nodded. "And you're going to have to change into hospital clothes"

Again, he nodded. Madam Pomfrey held out his pajamas, and Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed. I quickly attempted to help him, but he gently put a hand over mine on his arm and gave me a gentle prod. I let go. He leaned over and gently kissed my cheek, so I knew he wasn't mad at me.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Miss Weasley, my patients need rest," Madam Pomfrey told me sternly.

I was about to open my mouth to refuse, but Harry beat me to it. His voice was raspy and weak. "No, please let her stay." He sounded so small and helpless.

Madam Pomfrey looked from Harry to me and back again. Our faces were pleading. I didn't want to leave Harry – I had to make sure he was okay.

"Alright, but just this once. It's already a quarter to nine, so you can only stay if you also wear a gown." I quickly nodded, and Madam Pomfrey quickly fetched me some bedclothes.

After I received my pajamas, Madam Pomfrey went back into her office, and Harry and I quickly changed. I made sure to keep my face averted as he did, unsure if he wanted me to look. He bestowed the same courtesy upon me.

He seemed tired as he lay back in his bed. I ignored the bed set up for me as I sat on the edge of his bed hesitantly, trying not to jostle him around too much.

I didn't say anything, and I felt Harry scoot over under the covers. I looked up, and he looked back shyly. He made a motion towards the spot beside him, and I caught on, slipping in beside him under the covers. It was a slim bed, and we lay down facing each other on the pillow.

"Harry?" I asked.

"Hmm?" he responded, gazing sleepily into my eyes.

"Are you sick?" My voice was low, almost a whisper.

His face was passive and clearly controlled as he nodded.

I dreaded the answers he was going to give me, but I had to know them. "When will you get better?"

Harry sighed and his eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment. His breath tickled my face. "I'm not going to get better."

"So, what exactly are you saying?" The panic started to rise in me. It was the worst it had ever been. I knew what he was saying, but I wasn't ready – at all – to even imagine it as a real possibility.

"I have cancer, Ginny. I've had it for a while."

The words didn't seem to process quite right. I didn't understand. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. And then I began to feel it. First, my heart began to race, and my mind went into full overload. I felt like I was trapped within myself with no escape. But the ceiling wasn't good enough to control my choked up throat, so I turned back over and buried myself into the pillow – attempting to suffocate myself if possible. The first sob I released was harsh and inhumane. I tried to fight the rest, but I finally gave in, and my shoulders rose and fell as I poured out my soul.

A smooth hand covered my back and rubbed it gently. It didn't help – if anything, I felt as if my heart had shattered into a million pieces and was ready to shatter again.

I wasn't in control as I flung myself from the pillow and into Harry's arms. They wrapped around me without a second thought, and I buried my snotty nose into his neck. He didn't object, and just began rubbing my back and hair, making shushing noises quietly in my ear. He seemed so care-free. He wasn't worried, and I became angry.

"W- when were you going t – to tell me, you – you –" But I couldn't finish my sentence, and it was swept away in my moans of anguish.

I wept into his chest. "_Harry_…"

I held onto him as tight as I could, unwilling to let go.

"I love you, Ginny," I heard Harry whisper into my ear. My anguish heightened. I was going to lose _Harry_. "And I was going to tell you soon. I was hoping I wouldn't have another episode like this before that time came."

"It's not fair!" I whispered fiercely. "_How long?_" The question came out shaky and frightened. How long would he live?

"It was supposed to be February," he said, and I sobbed. It just kept getting worse. "But, now they think it'll be longer."

"Who? _When?_" I demanded.

"The doctors. They said I have a chance to make it until May – maybe even June!" Harry sounded so optimistic, and I couldn't understand. His optimism made the whole situation more real. He was just accepting his fate. Like it was _nothing_. I began to shake my head furiously against his chest, and then I leant back.

"No – no, you can't –" I beat my fists against his chest in hopelessness and rage and sorrow and… "You're not – you are _not_ dying! This – isn't – funny! Stop lying! _Stop lying…_" I broke down into another fit of tears hitting his chest with my fists as hard as I could muster, which wasn't much. He grabbed my hands to stop my fists, and I obliged, feeling weak.

I folded into his warm embrace, and he began to rock us back and forth urgently. "I'm not lying, I'm not lying," Harry chanted. He kissed the top of my head as my sobs started to die down. I still felt an unbelievable, overwhelming amount of sorrow, but I couldn't muster enough energy to cry anymore.

Harry didn't say anything else, and I couldn't bring myself to either. He just tucked his warm arms around me, and I snuggled as close as ever, trying to burrow myself into him permanently. It took a while for Harry to fall asleep, and, once I heard and felt his light snores, I pulled back from his chest and looked into his sleeping face.

He looked peaceful – untroubled. I stared at him in wonder. I didn't think about how he was going to die – that was too depressing, and I didn't want to. He looked perfect in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. I leaned foreword and put my lips against his. He didn't stir, so, keeping our lips together, I whispered, "I love you too much, Harry. I'm too attached, just like you told me not to be. I'm so sorry."

Harry didn't wake up or move as I lay back within his arms and tried to fall asleep.

**A/N: haha, I never thought anyone would actually vote in the poll in my profile. Thanks :) So far I have nine votes plus myself. I don't even remember which one I voted for. Probably an angsty one.**

**And I started posting this story on harrypotterfanfiction, and I have 2 chapters up and 3 reviews. It's depressing because I love reviews. If there was an equation for the wanted relation between my chapters (**_**c**_**)****and reviews (**_**r**_**) it would be: **_**r = 10**_**c**

**Idk if equal signs are allowed on this site, but there's supposed to be one between the **_**r**_** and **_**10c**_** if one didn't show up.**

**I just figured out how I'm going to end this story! It has made me **_**very**_** excited. I'm giddy at the thought that I'm going to have an actual plot for once. And that's all I'm saying for now because I don't know how long it'll take to get there.**

**I used incorrect grammar in this chapter on several parts on purpose. Is that a bad thing?**

**Review! Appease my equation!**


	9. Susceptible

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Susceptible**

_And the grass it was a ticking  
And the sun was on the rise  
I never felt so wicked  
As when I willed our love to die  
And I was your silver lining  
As the story goes  
I was your silver lining  
But now I'm gold_

_Silver Lining_ Rilo Kiley

My feet were cold. That was the first thing I noticed when I woke up. I wiggled my toes to warm them, but it was useless – they were hanging out in the open for the cool air to attack. I opened my eyes blearily and unburied my head from something firm and warm. It was morning; the sun was shining brightly in my eyes, so I squinted.

I didn't have to have the night before rush back to me as I knew exactly where I was. I knew exactly what happened. I knew Harry hadn't lied despite my protests and unwillingness to believe him. I knew it wasn't a nightmare.

I gently rolled out of the small hospital bed, making sure not to rustle its other companion. I dressed lethargically, not allowing emotions or rational thought inside; I was afraid that if I let any small amount in I would break to pieces.

I finished and caught my reflection in the window. I couldn't see much with the sun shining behind it, but what I could was a mess of hair. I ignored it, not even trying to fix it. I turned away from the window.

He was so peaceful and quiet. His chest rose and fell gently without a hint of the illness destroying him. I approached him slowly and kneeled down beside his sleeping figure. He was lying on his back, his head turned towards me. I moved my head an inch away from his face, and his cool breath rushed back onto my face. My breath caught as his flew right through me.

I pushed my arm under the covers. I gripped his hand, and it wasn't as cold as usual. I took some reassurance in this as I stared at his sleeping face. There was a gentle curve to his nose that I had never really taken note of before. His eyelashes were long and ebony as they met the slim curve of his sallow cheek. His lips weren't too thin or too thick. They were just right and a pale pink. He had freckles so lightly dotting his cheeks that I could barely see them. I reached out with my other hand and brushed my knuckles along his face. I began to lightly trace the contours, memorizing every curve. My finger outlined his chin and began its path towards his lips. I touched them. Chapped and memorable.

It was too much, and I buried my head in the soft mattress, pulling my hands away from his face and his hand to grip my tangled hair roughly.

I tried to control the rapid rise and fall of my chest; I tried to stop the tears from coming.

"Ginny?"

I kneeled up quickly, wiping my eyes hastily. I tried my best to smile.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Are you crying?"

"No, not at all."

Harry reached out with a hand and stroked my nest-like hair. He was staring at me, but I couldn't bring myself to look back. I was a complete and total mess – inside and out.

"I'm going to go on a walk for a bit," I finally said.

"Alright," Harry conceded.

I leaned over and, as tenderly as I could convey, kissed his forehead gently. I pulled back and reached up a hand and rubbed his hair down on the top of his head.

"I'll be back soon," I promised.

"Take your time," Harry insisted weakly. "Don't worry about me."

I shook my head at his careless words and insisted, "I'll be back soon."

"Okay." I took one last look at his kind, tired face before standing up and leaving the Hospital Wing.

The hallways were crowded, and I had a brief memory block, confused, before I remembered that classes were still going on; it was the last day before break started. I vaguely wondered why Madam Pomfrey hadn't woken me up, but I couldn't bring myself to care much.

I stared at my feet as I passed by my classmates. I knew how I must look: puffy eyes, crazy hair, pale face, rumpled clothes. I wasn't in the mood to deal with their curious stares; I felt as if I could snap at any slight glance or touch or voice aimed towards me.

I didn't want to cry: I wanted the tears to go away and the ache in my chest to leave or at least subside so it wasn't so painful. One night of agony was more than enough.

I turned down an empty corridor, glad to find a place to be alone. I slid down the stone wall, ignoring the painful scrape it left on my back. I unseeingly stared at the painting on the opposite wall. My legs were spread out in front of me limply as I duly noted the white brush strokes of the water fall and the sharp edge of a rock. _Harry won't be able to see this in a few months. He won't have the chance to experience everything I do_. _He doesn't have enough time._

Thoughts like this continued to flow through my mind, and I was unable to stop them. I just let them through, letting each one pierce me like a knife. Classes must have finally become in session because no one interrupted me. There were no windows in the corridor, only the dull glow of torches lining the wall.

I sat there a long time, observing the beautiful landscape and thinking so much about Harry.

"Ginny?" A quiet voice called my name out in the silence, and I sharply turned my head to look at my brother.

I sighed, looked away, and rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Hello, Ron," I said dully and unemotionally.

My nervous, confused-looking brother sat down beside me. He didn't say anything, but I wasn't sure if I expected him to. Our last conversation had been months ago. We sat there for a few minutes before I finally decided to say something.

"My friend is sick," I told him flatly. I felt as if I needed to tell someone the awful secret I had discovered. I needed support. Ron could give it to me – Ron was loyal. Ron would listen. I had no one else to turn to, and, almost perfectly, Ron showed up as if to show that someone could help me.

I looked at my older brother to see him trying to think of something to say. His mouth was trying to form around words.

"He has a Muggle disease called Cancer," I expanded.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ron asked hesitantly.

I sighed and looked away, shaking my head. "No," I said, angry to hear there were tears in my voice. "He's dying." A few tears escaped, and I wiped them away hastily.

"I – d'you –" I looked up to see Ron stuttering over words he couldn't manage. "I could – I mean –" Finally, Ron just gave up and took me by surprise. He hugged me. I stiffened for a second, and he seemed stiff too, but after a moment we both relaxed. It wasn't often I hugged my brother – in fact, I hadn't hugged him in years.

It was only a few moments long, and we both pulled away quickly.

"Thanks, Ron," I muttered thankfully. He nodded once, looking a little embarrassed.

"Can I… I mean… could I ask… who… it is?" Ron questioned cautiously.

"It's Harry," I whispered, wiping at my eyes again. _Why_ wouldn't I stop crying?

"The boy you're…?" The question hung out quietly, and I nodded.

"And it's just…" I paused, trying to gather myself up once more. "It's just so unfair! He never did anything wrong! He'd never hurt anyone! He's _always_ wonderful, and he…" I let out a sob that I couldn't suppress. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. "It's unfair to _me_," I moaned.

"Sometimes, Gin…" Ron said gently. "Sometimes bad things happen to good people."

I looked at my youngest brother and gave him a watery grimace. "I haven't been nice to you, have I?" I asked rhetorically. Ron looked away and at his intertwined fingers in his lap.

He shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes," he muttered.

"I guess you're right," I admitted. "Just know that I'm better than I was."

Ron just nodded. He looked at me curiously. "Is it because of Harry?" he asked.

I nodded, letting a small smile linger on my face. "Yeah… he makes me want to be more… I don't know. I want to please him. He makes me happy. I'm better because of him."

Ron reached up and laid a hand on my shoulder. He looked me straight in the eyes as he told me something I'd always remember. "Just be lucky you ever knew someone as strong as Harry Potter."

---

My brother left a little while after that when the bell rang signaling lunch and the end of his free period, and I did too. I was standing outside of the Hospital Wing doors, contemplating whether or not I was collected enough to go through them.

Just when I thought I was ready to stomach seeing Harry again, my throat closed up. I leaned towards a nearby window, throwing it open and gasping for breath in the frigid air.

"_Fuck_," I moaned miserably, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold.

"Ginny, what –"

My heart and I leapt as I turned around to come face to face with – "Carter."

"Are you crying?" He looked worried as he came closer.

"N – no! What are you doing over here, anyways?" I asked defensively, refusing to wipe my eyes or sniff to completely give myself away.

"It's just… I heard your friend was sick, and –"

"Who'd you hear that from?" I asked harshly. There was a large part of me that felt guilty for being short and rude with Carter, but I was distraught and couldn't help it.

"A – a Ravenclaw boy," Carter stuttered hastily. "His friend hexed him, so he had to go reverse the spell's effects this morning in the Hospital Wing. He told me he saw Potter in there – sick. I thought I might find you here, and I guess I was right." He spoke quickly as if to get the words out as fast as possible.

I eyed the nervous boy in front of me suspiciously. "Why would you want to find me? You haven't associated yourself with me in months."

Carter sighed and shifted, staring at his feet forlornly. He glanced up in my direction swiftly before returning his gaze back to the floor. "You were right, Ginny. I was selfish just like Vanessa, Nate, and Colin. And I've been a jerk to you – I didn't talk to you just because I didn't want to ruin what little _status_ I had." He cautiously walked up to me. I stood still and stared at him. He laid a hand on my shoulder. "I – I've changed, Gin. I don't care about –" He stopped, gathering his thoughts. "I haven't talked to the three of them in weeks, Gin."

I sighed, taking Carter and his downtrodden but slightly hopeful expression in for one long moment, before flinging my arms around his waist in a big hug. Finally, I allowed myself to sniff into his chest. He returned the hug, and when we pulled away from each other, he was smiling.

"Do you want to meet Harry?" I asked hopefully. He grinned and nodded.

And, as I looked at my newly reclaimed friend, I decided that my cloud – my very dark, stormy cloud – had a small but meaningful silver lining.

**A/N: Equation appeased! Thanks, guys (J'adore vous!) :) New equation for a new goal! **_**reviews = (20)(chapters)**_

**And, yeah, I realize I haven't updated in 2 weeks. Sorry.**

**Take the poll in my profile – I'll share the results within the next few chapters because I already have 45ish votes. Please review (20 is my goal… only you can make it happen)!**


	10. Interlude: Harry's Point of View

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Interlude: Harry's Point of View**

_It started with a low light.  
Next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed;  
and then they took my blood type._

_They left a strange impression in my head.  
You know that I was hoping  
that I could leave this star-crossed world behind;  
but when they cut me open,  
I guess I changed my mind._

_Spaceman _The Killers

I heard voices ringing outside of the infirmary, and I smiled a little at the sound of her voice. It was one of the many things I held onto tightly in my mind, allowing the memory of it to linger. I don't think I could forget her lovely chimes if I tried.

The nurse tried to help me up as I swung my legs out of bed, but I quickly assured her I was alright. I could tell she was trying hard not to look at me in pity as she stepped away, lingering close, but I could still see the sympathy etched into the aged lines of her face.

Once I got up without a stitch of trouble, I patted her on the arm reassuringly. "Thank you, Ma'am," I said in a voice that was meant to sooth her and assure her I was okay. I was glad when I noticed her worry recessed as her frown became less prominent.

The nurse patted my face gently and smiled at me. "You're a sweet boy, Harry," she said sadly.

"And you're a sweet nurse, Madam Pomfrey," I told her in a tone more cheerful than hers.

Madam Pomfrey gave me a watery smile before saying, "You should get dressed, Harry. You're allowed to leave, and, as tomorrow is break, I'm sure you have much to do to prepare for it."

I made sure my smile stayed the same on my face as Madam Pomfrey turned away and walked into her office. When I was sure she couldn't see me, I frowned lightly and felt a rock hit the bottom of my stomach. I wasn't going home for break: there was no reason to go live in an empty house for two weeks. My dad had died a day before Christmas last break, and I was in no mood to celebrate the holiday. I knew I should enjoy Christmas and New Years and do my best to keep an upbeat attitude during my last holiday season, but I couldn't help but feel glum.

I often sunk into depressions that didn't go away until Ginny came and talked to me or hugged me or was just near me. She barely noticed I ever felt hopelessly helpless and alone as I never felt that way around her. She made me feel real and alive again and like I wasn't just a waste of space in the world.

I was no fool: I realized I was unpopular and an outcast at Hogwarts. But it always puzzled me as to why. I wasn't dumb; I wasn't crude or mean. I tried to be friendly, but I always ended up rejected. I suppose my social skills weren't exactly up to par, but whose completely were?

But, eventually, I brushed off the rejection and just let myself be the way I was. My odd quirks I had tried to get rid of seemed firmly attached to me at the hip or elbow or knee or _somewhere_.

In March, when I found out I had gotten cancer, I realized the path I was to follow. I would pass on just like my father, despite my attempts to stop it from happening. I decided to make the most of life and help the world out as much as possible in as short of span as possible. As a result, I found my father's old rendition of _Hogwarts, A History_ and began writing my to-do list of things to do before I died throughout it.

Many of the list's requirements seemed unattainable, but I put them down anyways as I wanted to have at least tried. And, as a result, Ginny had helped me push through quite a few on the list – some of the more difficult ones such as numbers two and three.

I wasn't sure as to why Ginny liked me – no one else ever really paid much attention to me. But, somehow, I _knew_ she was good. I knew she wanted to change. She seemed unhappy. Well, at least that was how I thought of her before we really met.

I always noticed her. She was Ronald Weasley's younger sister. Ronald was always kind to me – one of the few students that were – and I realized his siblings had to be the same. One just couldn't come from the same family with the same values but be polar opposites.

So I began to notice her more. I never was obvious, and I would always observe from afar, but I was interested. I made sure not to get too close to her or linger too long, as I didn't want to be labeled as a stalker as well as a weirdo.

She never seemed completely happy. There was a lingering guilt or regret in her posture or expression too often for someone like her. It only made me more intrigued.

But then she got in trouble and was assigned community hours. Professor Dumbledore had come to me personally to ask me to take her under my wing. And although his reasoning for my help was my do-good attitude, I always believed the aged wizard realized my secret fascination with Ginevra Weasley.

But how I was thrilled at the chance to help the girl of my liking; I was as upbeat and nice as possible when ever she was around. My attitude was almost effortless as she seemed to make everything appear much brighter.

I gave her a brief warning about what would happen if she became too attached, but I didn't really want to give it to her. I wanted to be selfish for once and have someone. So I began to ignore the voice in my head that told me to let her go and stop pursuing her. I don't think I ever wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted her to be my friend.

And then, somehow, she began to like me too. When she became my friend, it was much more than I could have hoped for. It was the first real friend I had made at Hogwarts, but, on the flipside of being ecstatic, I became all the more sad that I would have to leave her in a few short months.

I never believed she would fall in love with me. I always thought my feelings of adoration would never be reciprocated – forever alone.

Ginny became my life. I wanted to be with her all the time. I forgot my oncoming fate when she was around. I forgot my dead parents and imprisoned Godfather. I didn't even want to go to classes as it would mean I'd leave her, and I wouldn't be able to escape to the blissful world of ignorance.

I didn't want to tell Ginny I was going to die. Honestly, I was sometimes afraid to admit it to myself. But when we officially became a couple, I knew I would have to do it soon. We would be sitting in the library and I would think, _Okay, tell her. Tell her_ now_._ And then we would go for a walk, and I would tell myself the same thing.

I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't want to hurt Ginny because to hurt her would be to hurt me as well.

But now she knew. She took it as well as could be expected, and I was grateful that she was so strong. But, as I quickly changed back into my clothes and sat at the edge of my bed, I wanted to be with her desperately.

I knew she was just outside the infirmary as I had heard her speaking, but I didn't know who she was speaking to. I didn't want to interrupt.

I sat and fidgeted around for a few more minutes before finally deciding to just go meet her. My self restraint was horrible.

I was reaching out to grab the doorknob to leave into the hallway when the door flung open.

I didn't get a chance to see who it was before a sea of red clouded my vision. I immediately recognized the compact form of Ginny, and I automatically wrapped my arms around her. She pulled back a little and gave me a small kiss. I smiled against her mouth before she pulled away slowly.

"Hi, Ginny," I said.

"Harry," she sighed, kissing me once more.

She turned out of my hold a little; I released her for the most part but kept one arm wrapped around her waist. Her eyes were red and puffy, and I grimaced when I realized it was my doing. But I guess that couldn't be helped now: I would have to get used to a sad Ginny in the upcoming months. But, although I knew the future months would be tough, I was more worried about what would happen to her after I was gone. I wouldn't be there to look after her.

"This," Ginny said, guiding me outside of the infirmary gently, "is Carter."

My gaze landed on the tall blonde boy, and I automatically smiled. "Hello," I greeted, holding out my hand, "I'm Harry."

The boy smiled back shyly, taking the offered hand. "I know," he told me, not unkindly.

I released his hand. "Well, that's a good thing then."

There was a brief awkward silence as we stood there, searching for something to say. I knew Ginny felt hesitant since she now knew my secret, and I hoped the tension would decrease soon: I hated it. I knew Carter Webb was from Ginny's old friend group, but, from what I gathered, he was more kind and accepting than others. And if Ginny trusted him, I would too.

"So, um, I think we could still make it to lunch if we hurry," Ginny mentioned, finally breaking the suffocating silence.

"Alright," Carter quickly agreed, eager to do something other than stand around and feel awkward.

We were halfway down the hallways when Carter looked over at me and told me, "Oh, and you have some ink on your cheek, mate."

Ginny grinned up at me, and I swear my heart turned into a pile of mush for a second. "You _always_ have ink on your face, Harry."

"I do not!" I protested indignantly. Okay, yes, I always did, I knew this, but I liked bantering with Ginny.

"You do, love, but that's alright," she said. She leaned up, kissing my cheek in rapid succession.

"Hey!" I laughed when she didn't stop. "What're you doing?"

She leaned back and looked at me like I was crazy. "Getting the ink off, silly!" she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I laughed again and tugged her closer to my side. I kissed the top of her head quickly. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

Carter laughed from beside us.

"What?" Ginny asked.

Carter gave us a sidelong glance, smiling slightly. "Nothing, you two are just good together."

Ginny looked up at me, and, staring back into her now less red eyes, I could detect some sadness when she said, "I know."

**A/N: Since I can now drive on the road to Kroger's, my school, my school's parking lot, and the doctor's office (random, yeah, and nothing to do with this next statement), this chapter was just for a little change and experimentation. Was it alright? Was it a load of goat crap? You should tell me. I just thought some of you might wanna know what goes on in HPs mind. Do you think I should do a few more chapters in Harry's POV then switch back to Ginny's? I like writing for Harry as well as Ginny. I think switching view points can help keep the story interesting. What do you think?**

**Dudes and Gals, thanks for a total of a whopping 27 reviews since my last chapter. It was really lovely, and you have no idea how happy it makes me that people actually read my story.**


	11. Fascination

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Fascination**

_Fascination, fascination:_

_It's just the way we feel._

_We love this exultation._

_We want the new temptations._

_It's like a revelation._

_We live on fascination._

_Fascination_ Alphabeat

I quickly sealed the envelope of my letter, hopping up out of my chair.

"Harry, will you come with me to mail this before curfew?"

Harry looked up from his position on the floor, where he was yet again reading _Hogwarts, A History_.

"Of course," he agreed readily, already getting up.

"Thanks," I said, smiling gratefully.

He put his arm around my back and started to gently lead us out through the portrait hole. "No problem."

"So you're coming home with me for winter break, right?" I asked as casually as I could. I had wanted to ask Harry over for break for the past few weeks, but I always ended up forgetting. Whether this was because I got distracted by another task or just was caught up in Harry and his secret, I wasn't sure. Maybe both. I knew his relatives were horrible to him, and I also knew they would leave for their own vacation getaway without a second glance at their nephew. It was the perfect chance to invite Harry home, and, looking down at my feet and squeezing my eyes shut briefly, maybe the last chance.

"Wha – really?" came Harry's surprised voice in my ear. I stopped walking, and I pulled out from his hold to look at him.

I knew this would be his reaction, so, prepared, I insisted, "Of course. Do you want to?"

He didn't answer right away, and, suddenly insecure that I was too forward or he didn't want to come, I tried to amend the situation. "I mean, you don't have to. It was just a suggestion, and I didn't want you to be stuck here alone at Hogwarts. And I kind of hoped that you'd want to come…," I trailed off, with a hopeful edge coating my voice.

"No! I do, really…," Harry told me. "I was just surprised – no one's ever invited me over like this before… are you sure I wouldn't impose?"

Relieved, I laughed. "Absolutely not! My family will love you!"

Harry looked at me with thinly concealed disbelief. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"And why would that be?" I asked softly. Harry looked off to the side, silent.

Sometimes Harry was so insecure – not that I could blame him. He hadn't had the ideal Hogwarts social experience, after all, and I knew he barely believed I even liked him. Sometimes I just wished that he could see himself like I do.

"Harry...," I said, trying to bring his gaze back to mine. He cautiously looked back at me. "Harry, I _know_ they'll love you. Even if we weren't together, I'm sure they'd still like you. My family is a bit…" I smiled as I searched for the right word. "… eccentric themselves, so you'll fit right in."

Harry's expression changed a little at my reassurances, but some of the doubt lingered. "Look," I said, only half-joking, "if they're even the slightest bit horrible to you, which they won't be, I'll castrate all of them myself."

Harry smiled a little at my weak attempt at a joke, but then his frown reappeared, and he sighed. "Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Positive," I said firmly. "I love you, and if they can't accept that, then they're not worth it."

"Don't say stuff like that…" Harry trailed off. He had a strange look in his eye.

"Stuff like what? 'I love you'?"

"Like… like I'm worth more than your whole life. I would never want you to abandon your family just because of me. I won't even… I won't even be here that long, so it's not like I'm going to be there to support you for even a year."

I quickly looked down at the letter in my hand. My suddenly stinging eyes were shining, but I didn't want Harry to see. I didn't want to cause him any more pain than he already had to deal with.

"But –" I started brokenly. I took a deep breath and tried again. "You don't understand."

I finally looked up at him, desperately trying to control my emotions. He looked back at me curiously.

"I – I would give anything – _anything _to save you, Harry. I know I can't do that." I stopped to regain my strangled breath. "So I just have to deal with having you while I can and making the most of our time together." Harry's eyes looked moister than usual, and I reached up to brush a lock of ebony hair away.

"I – Gin," Harry started, looking regretful. "I don't want you to throw your life away just to give me a few months of peace."

"I'm not throwing my life away! I'm giving myself one!" I nearly shouted.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "I took you away from your friends you had for _years_ – all for my own selfish reasons! I shouldn't have done that. And now, _look_, I'm going to take you away from your family, too!" This was the first time I had ever seen Harry so upset. It shocked me to some extent.

I tried to protest, but my words were cut off by Harry's again.

"I'm _dying_, Ginny. I – I love you _so_ _much_, and every time I see you, I almost forget that I'll be dead in a few months. You make me feel so alive and like I matter."

"You do matter!" I insisted, but he didn't seem to hear me.

"But a few months of happiness isn't going to cure me. In the end, I'll be gone, and you'll be broken. I don't want that for you."

My eyes filled up with tears. "It's a little too late for that now, don't you think?"

"Don't say that!"

"Say what? _It's too late_? Because it's the truth, Harry. Ever since I first spoke to you it was too late. But I _don't care_. We're in this together. I want to be there for you. Please, listen to me. Don't push me away, because, in the end, that'll hurt more than anything. Knowing that I could have had you but didn't would have been too much to bear. Just… just let me love you, Harry, because, quite frankly, you're acting ridiculous right now."

Harry still looked unsure, and, feeling irritated with his noble attitude, I leaned up and firmly kissed him. He looked a little dazed when I pulled back. "Just listen to me Harry."

Finally, he sighed, and forlornly said, "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am!"

"Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, glad with the shift into the suddenly playful atmosphere.

Harry just laughed. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" I repeated.

"C'mon, let's go mail your letter."

I huffed as we started walking, but when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder in a protective gesture, my fake protest went away. I sunk into his side, and he kissed the top of my head. The simple affectionate gesture made tears swell up, and my heart ached.

---

"But what if –"

"They'll love you."

"I mean –"

"They'll love you."

"I'm not sure this –"

"They'll love you."

"How can you kn–"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Harry, shut up! They'll adore you!"

Harry smiled sheepishly at me. He had been worrying the entire train ride how my parents and siblings would react to him. And it was only noon, so we had another six or seven hours left for him to worry.

I changed the subject, not wanting his unnecessary worry to nag at him any longer. "So do you have any idea what to do for the rest of the ride besides listen to you whine and complain?"

"Hey!"

"These train rides are always _so boring_. There is never anything to do. I never understood why we couldn't just apparate or take a Portkey to Hogwarts. It's so much simpler. _And _less tedious."

"I like the train rides. I think they're relaxing."

"You would," I said, laying out on the seat and resting my head in Harry's lap. He began to run his fingers through my hair gently. I closed my eyes, lulled into a calm state through the repetitive motions of Harry's fingers. "This is nice," I murmured.

"Yeah," Harry breathed. I opened my eyes to look up at Harry. He was smiling softly at me.

I glanced towards the closed door with the shades down over the windows. I looked back up at Harry, a mischievous smile taking over my features.

"What're you thinking?" Harry asked cautiously. I smiled wider, feeling daring. Our physical relationship hadn't gotten past the point of casual kissing and touching. And, at that moment, in the empty compartment with Harry, I felt like taking it farther.

I sat up and scooted over so I was sitting sideways on Harry's lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, and mine encircled gently around his neck. Our faces were less than an inch than away from each other, and I could feel his heart speed up against my chest. I felt mine accelerate to match his. "I think I found something to do," I breathed in a low voice.

Harry gulped.

We had been this close before, but not quite so… intimately. It was innocent before, but now…. We were wearing Muggle clothes for once, and I could feel every crevice of Harry's torso against mine through the thin shirts.

I leaned forward so our lips were barely touching, but we didn't kiss. He let out a shuddering breath. I pulled back an inch so I could unwrap my arms from his neck. Our eyes were locked together as I brought my hands down to unwrap his from my torso. He complied, and I could see a mixture of emotions flash through his face.

Slowly, I led his hands to the bottom of my shirt. I helped guide his hands under the thin fabric. At this motion, he broke eye contact for a brief moment to glance down to where his hands rested on my bare skin. It was ridiculous, but I felt on fire with just the barest touches of his hands.

He looked back up at me with a look of such vulnerability my heart ached. I leaned forward and kissed him fiercely, urging his caresses forward with a tug of my hands.

He tentatively began to return the kiss, gaining more confidence. I released his hands and wrapped my arms around his back, pressing us closely together. His hands began to travel on their own accord up and down my back and sides. I shuddered.

My hands were raking up and down his back through the fabric. I hesitantly slipped them under his shirt, and he pulled away from the kiss, surprised.

"Can I…?" I asked softly, rubbing my thumb back and forth.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice sounding far away.

We didn't kiss again as I explored his back. I could feel every vertebra, a reminder of the disease that was slowly killing him. My hands moved around to touch his chest, and he shivered.

His hands began to move too. One of them stayed on my back while the other moved to touch my stomach.

Harry let out a shaky laugh. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted.

I smiled at him. "Me neither, but it feels good, right?"

"Yeah, really good…"

"Same."

He smiled shyly at me, moving his hand farther up my stomach. It stopped moving right below my breasts.

"You can…"

"Really?"

I nodded, but he still didn't do anything. Then, slowly, his thumb moved slightly upward and touched the underside of my bra. His hand finally moved until it rested on top of my breast. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of my chest as he touched me more intimately than anyone had before.

I could tell he was going to move his hand away, so I kissed him before he could, urging him forward. He moaned into my mouth, and I smiled.

It was one of the few train journeys that I enjoyed.

**A/N: ****This is literally the ninth time I sat down to try and write this chapter. Every time I tried to (which was frequently, and I only got about 300 words done) I only wrote like a paragraph then got bored or distracted. And then, when I did become inspired to write, someone else had to use the computer. So today I finally finished it! Kudos to me! Or not, since it's been over two weeks since the last update (wooppsss…).**

**Harry's relatives go on vacation for winter break, so that's why the house is empty. It was originally just a mistake on my part when I mentioned an empty house, but now it's not.**

**Poll Results?**

* * *

_**Bent Boy: What should I do? I'm obsessed with drama/angst/deathwhichresultsinangst. Angst is probably my favorite word.**_

**Kill Harry (with lots of angsty goodness)**_** 9 Votes (12 percent)**_

**Keep Harry alive (there's less angst in this choice :P) **_**55 Votes (73 percent)**_

**Idontcare **_**2 Votes (2 percent)**_

**idc, but make it angsty. **_**1 Vote (1 percent)**_

**idc, but make it not angsty. **_**1 Vote (1 percent)**_

**Iloveyouyouredoingperfect **_**6 Votes (8 percent)**_

_**Unique Voters: 74**_

* * *

**This poll has not in any way, shape, or form influenced my decision on how to end this story. It has not turned me for or against any idea. It was just for kicks. **

**And thank you, all of my reviewers and alert and favorite members!**


	12. Curiosity

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Curiosity**

_And I gotta get a move on fit for the sun.  
I hear my baby callin' my name,  
And I know that she's the only one.  
And if I die in Raleigh,  
At least I will die free._

_So rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel,  
Rock me, mama, anyway you feel,  
Hey, mama, rock me.  
Rock me, mama, like the wind and the rain,  
Rock me, mama, like a south-bound train,  
Hey, mama, rock me._

_Wagon Wheel_ Old Crow Medicine Show

The train slowed to a stop, and Harry looked rather green. I put a hand on his now coat-covered arm. "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry just nodded a little bit. I gave him a quick hug, laughing a little. "It'll be fine, Harry! You already know that Ron likes you, so there are already at least two Weasleys that are fond of you."

"Ron likes me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes!"

I pulled down my suitcase I had packed for the holiday. I grabbed Harry's as well, handing it over to him.

"Thanks," he muttered, looking a little better than before.

"Come on," I urged, filing off the train with a stream of other students, dragging a semi-reluctant Harry along in my wake.

I easily spotted my redheaded parents in the sea of brunettes. "They're over there, Harry," I pointed, walking slowly so as to prepare Harry. "Look, they're completely harmless – they don't bite too hard."

"That's not funny," Harry snapped quietly, quite petrified.

"Yes it need to lighten up, seriously." Harry began to slow our already slack pace, so I tugged on his arm. "Let's go."

When we arrived, I noticed Ron had already gotten there and was chatting to them excitedly. "Hey, Mum, Dad," I greeted them, noticing Harry stood a little behind me.

My parents quickly hugged and kissed me in greeting.

"This," I announced, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him forward, "is Harry."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry murmured quietly, holding out a hand bravely.

They accepted his offered handshake. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Harry. Ginny has mentioned so much about you in her letters," my mother gushed.

Harry nodded shyly, but he was smiling brightly. Typical of him to be a bundle of nerves yet be completely charming.

"Well, shall we get a move on then?" my father asked. "We brought the Ford Anglia, so we'll be driving home."

We left the barrier, my parents walking in front of Harry, Ron, and I. I spared a glance at Harry to see his face completely white. I reached down to grab his hand to find it slightly sweaty from nerves. I squeezed, and he weakly returned the gesture, glancing down at me pitifully.

"See? Harmless," I whispered in his ear.

Harry shook his head, leaning down to murmur in my ear. "That was absolutely terrifying. I felt as if they _knew_."

"About what?"

"What we did on the train," Harry replied, his face finally gaining enough color to blush.

I looked down, feeling my own blush grace my cheeks. But I leaned over again and whispered in his ear, "Trust me, they have no clue. That endeavor was between just you and me, and every time to come is too. One of which I hope is soon."

Harry's eyes widened a little at my brazenness in the middle of the train station, his blush deepening. But, before he could reply, Ron interrupted.

"You're going to love the Burrow, Harry," he said. I looked around Harry to see Ron staring back at me with an amused smirk at my flushed appearance. I rolled my eyes but quickly turned back to Harry to see his response.

"The Burrow?" he asked in confusion.

"Yeah, it's sort of a name for our house," Ron explained.

"Not 'sort of.' It is the name of our house," I amended. Ron rolled his eyes at me.

"Same difference," Ron whined.

Harry laughed at my brother. I smiled, glad that they were getting along.

There was a lull in the conversation as we exited King's Cross Station and entered the parking lot.

"How many brothers did you say you had again?" Harry asked in my ear.

"Six."

Harry turned his head away from me to look straight ahead. "Oh." He sounded fearful.

I audibly sighed. "Relax, Harry, it'll be fine."

Ron, who heard my last comment, asked, "Everything alright there, Harry?"

Harry nodded tightly. "Yes, thank you."

I sincerely hoped that within the next day or so Harry would loosen up a bit. I hated seeing him so nervous and insecure. It wasn't like him.

Our two hour car ride back to the Burrow was uneventful. Ron prattled on to my mother and father with my occasional input. Harry only spoke when asked a question or spoken to. Otherwise, he kept quiet, his hand tightly clutching mine. I could tell that he desperately wanted to wrap his arm around my shoulders in our usual position but didn't feel comfortable enough to do so. Every now and then I would see one of my parents or Ron send an amused glance back at Harry and me. I don't think Harry noticed, but I did, and it got a little irritating after a while. I kept quiet though, for Harry's sake. I didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was.

We finally got to the Burrow, and, exiting the car, I observed Harry as he gazed up at my crooked house.

I carefully gauged his reaction as I grabbed my suitcase. Worried when his expression remained blank, I said, "Harry?"

He turned to look at me. He smiled widely. "It's brilliant!" he exclaimed.

I shrugged, happy to see he wasn't disappointed. "It's the Burrow."

Harry laughed, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk of the car.

I followed my parents and Ron into the house, only to be met by a kitchen full of family.

My brothers greeted Ron and me rather overenthusiastically when we entered the kitchen. It took nearly two minutes for them to stop smothering me. I knew they attacked like that just to annoy me.

Just as I released, I heard George exclaim, "And who is this young dandy?"

Suddenly, all of the attention was on my nervous boyfriend. I attempted to get to him through the wall that was my brothers. When I finally got through, Harry was smiling nervously trying to avoid my brothers' stares.

"Stop harassing him!" I scolded them sternly.

"Aw, Gin-Gin has a crush on him," Fred teased me.

I rolled my eyes. "Seeing as he's my boyfriend that would make sense."

There was silence at my declaration, and I almost sighed in annoyance. They probably thought he was Ron's friend or something because I never, and I mean never, brought anyone home besides my old group of friends. I had never had a steady boyfriend before that I deemed important enough to have over before now. In fact, I'm pretty sure they thought I would grow up to be an old maid with lots of cats.

When it was obvious that my brothers weren't going to say anything, I grabbed a petrified Harry by the hand and said, "Since these buffoons are shocked into silence and may or may not ever speak again, I'll show you where you sleep, Harry." I led Harry past my brothers and towards the stairs.

"Wait," my eldest brother, Bill called out. I turned around to look at my brother. He had a strange expression on his face, as if he were just remembering something. "Harry Potter, right?"

I saw expressions of realization over Fred's, George's, and Percy's faces. They must have remembered Harry from Hogwarts.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

"I know your dad," he said. Harry's expression changed from slightly guarded to uncomfortable. My brothers and I watched the exchange with interest. Bill, recognizing that Harry wasn't going to say anything, continued, "I was going to be an Auror, and your dad trained me for a year – James Potter. Then I decided it just wasn't for me, and I switched to curse breaking. How is he?"

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly at the question. Bill didn't know, and I felt sorry for Harry for having to answer.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, he's… sort of… he passed away last Christmas."

Bill looked shocked, ashamed, and sorrowful. "Oh," he said in a small voice that didn't suit him.

"Yeah," Harry said, turning back to me. "So, you were going to show me where I'm going to sleep?" His obviously forced casual tone tried to suggest that nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, and I found myself nodding along.

"Um, yeah." I started up the stairs, Harry on my tail. I looked back briefly at my brothers, all looking a bit ashamed at their initial attitude towards Harry. Bill looked worst of all, upset he had brought up the one subject that would be sure to make Harry uncomfortable and bring up negative feelings.

I guess one couldn't say Harry and my brothers were off to a great start.

---

"It's nice," Harry said, looking around the room he would be sharing with my brother Ron. I figured he would be most comfortable in a room with his someone who was already his roommate, and Ron had offered when I had told him Harry was coming to stay.

I laughed, taking in the inordinate amount of bright orange. "Yeah, I suppose – for Ron."

Harry just grinned and looked around the room, saying, "No, really, it's brilliant." I knew he meant it.

"I'm just going to go drop my stuff off in my room. Want to come?"

Harry nodded and followed me down a staircase. We went into my room, which was fairly neat as I hadn't been there since summer, if a bit stuffed. It had yellow walls and white carpet and it was the definition of random.

I dropped my suitcase near the end of my bed, collapsing onto it. I stared at my ceiling before closing my eyes. I sighed, content. It felt good to be in my own bed.

I felt my bed dip down as Harry sat down beside me. "Are you really that tired?" he asked me, amused.

"A train ride like that takes a lot out of you," I responded peeking out of one eye to see his reaction at my comment. He just smiled lightly at me, not at all like his embarrassed self from earlier. This was most likely due to the fact that my brothers or parents were no where to be seen.

I opened both of my eyes, and we stared at each other before he leaned down and onto his elbow, facing me and hovering closely. I turned on my side, too.

His eyes darted all over my face for a moment before he smiled widely. "Have I ever told you how much I love your freckles?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the grin that appeared on my face. "No, and I have no idea why you do. They're _everywhere_. I can't escape the curse."

Suddenly, Harry rolled us over, so I was underneath him. He smiled wickedly, and I raised my eyebrows up at him.

"They're everywhere?" he asked me seemingly curiously, but I saw a glint in his eye.

I shrugged. "Maybe you'll figure it one day. Maybe not," I said carelessly.

He only laughed and leaned down to nuzzle my neck.

"What on earth has gotten into you, Harry?" I asked, giggling a bit. "Not that I mind…," I added hastily. He had never been quite this forward before – at least not without my assistance – and I was wondering what had brought it on.

I felt his chuckles vibrate against my neck. "You, Gin," he whispered in my ear happily. He leaned back and looked at me with an expression of such adoration, I felt my body ache. "I just… I just love you. A lot."

I felt a huge smile spread over my face. "I love you too, Harry. A lot," I added, smirking a little. Harry's smile grew until I was sure he would burst.

I heard a small "Oh!" come from the doorway. I looked up to see my mother hastily retrieving her wand she had dropped. Harry noticed too, and he rolled off of me and was on his feet so fast, he was a blur. I sat up and stood too, if not as frantically.

My mother was staring at the two of us, a little flushed. And, from what I could tell from her expression, she had heard my last comment to Harry. I felt my own blush creep into my cheeks. I didn't dare look at Harry.

"I just came up to tell you that dinner would be ready in a few," my mother said, skillfully omitting the fact that she had just walked in on Harry and me in a rather compromising position even if we weren't doing anything particularly inappropriate. I suppose I should have been glad it was only my mum walking in on us and not my father or brothers. "Yes, so…" My mother turned to leave a bit awkwardly.

I was about to let out a breath of relief, when Harry suddenly called out, "Oh! I just remembered, Mrs. Weasley!"

I looked over to see Harry standing there, rather red-faced.

My mother turned around. "Yes, dear?" she replied politely, although the tension rolling around the room was thick.

"Um… Madam Pomfrey told me I should give you my medical potions that I need to take every day this break – trusted adult and all that to make sure I use them correctly," Harry ended, a bit sheepishly, embarrassed to talk to my mother after she walked in on us. I had forgotten Harry had needed his medicine and treatment over break. He just seemed so normal most of the time, and I guess I hadn't remembered as I had only known about his illness for a few days.

"Oh, sure, but wh –"

"Great! I'll just go get them, then!" Harry said hurriedly, obviously flustered. He quickly pushed through the door and ran up to Ron's room.

I hesitantly walked over to my mum. She looked out the door in the direction Harry ran off to.

"Is he… is he ill?" mum asked, turning back towards me. She looked slightly worried.

Slowly, sadly, I nodded.

She took in my crushed expression, and asked, more hesitantly, "What exactly is wrong?"

I took a deep breath, cooling the nerves bubbling in my chest downward the best I could before answering, "He has cancer."

My mother looked confused. She had never heard of it before. It was a rather rare disease for Wizards to get. "It's a primarily Muggle disease," I added, hoping it would serve as a sufficient enough explanation.

"Will he be okay?"

The tears I had been trying to keep away rose involuntarily to my eyes. "He has until May – maybe June. His father died from it."

My mother's shocked expression died down a little as she saw I was trying hard to suppress tears. She moved to give me a hug, but I stopped her.

"Don't," I said. "Harry'll be coming back soon. I don't want him to see me crying. And _please_ don't say anything."

My mother nodded numbly, and, a moment later, Harry reappeared, holding a couple of bottles full of different colored liquids.

"I – er – I have to take the red bottle before breakfast and the blue bottle after dinner. I can get it for myself, don't worry, but you're supposed to have it with you incase, ah, in case I have an incident," Harry explained. He seemed a bit self-conscience and tense.

I put my hand on Harry's back and rubbed it up and down reassuringly. He looked down at me, and I smiled up at him. Some of the worry recessed from his features. I turned away after a moment, finally realizing my mother was standing there with a resigned expression on her face.

Harry handed over the potions, and my mother took them. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, for doing this."

She laid a gentle hand on his arm and smiled. "Not a problem, and it really is so nice to meet you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "It's nice to meet you too, ma'am."

She smiled a little at us, before saying, "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."

With that, she turned and left, but, when Harry turned to me and kissed my forehead gently, smiling, I looked past his shoulder to see my mother turn away from us and lightly dab her eyes with a handkerchief before descending down the stairs.

**A/N: I wrote this chapter instead of doing my homework. Typical of me.**

**Two chapters in one week is pretty decent of me, yeah?**

**Review, babes!**


	13. Friendship

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Friendship**

_Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight -  
Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude -  
Getting a cab and travelling on buses -  
__Reading__ the graffiti about slashed seat affairs -_

_That's Entertainment._

_That's Entertainment_ The Jam

"Ready to face the fire?" I asked. "Again?"

Harry's face morphed into one of defeat, but he smiled at me anyway. "I suppose so. Your brothers seem… fun," he said, searching for a word to describe them positively.

"Of course they are. Just sort of pains in the arse. Don't take what any of them say personally. I probably should have told you that earlier, but you survived their sneak attack marvelously."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"My hero."

"I try."

Harry laughed but looked over to the door hesitantly.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked, trying a different tactic to soothe Harry's ever standing nerves.

"Yeah, but… I don't think your brothers like me much." He looked at me desperately, a crease of worry lining his brow.

"Aw, Harry, you met them for all of two seconds. You guys'll warm up to each other in no time."

"You really think so?" Harry asked in a voice that wasn't laced with much hope.

"Yes!" I insisted. "Now, let's go downstairs to eat! My mother's a wonderful cook, and I'm starving!"

I started walking towards the door when I felt Harry tug at my shoulder, pulling me back.

I turned around and smiled at him a bit exasperatedly. "What, Harry?"

"Is your mum mad?"

"About what?" Harry raised his eyebrows at me. "Oh, _that!_ No, not at all!"

"You sure?"

"Absolutely, she's probably having kittens right now. She never met any one I was with before, and she realizes that you're important to me if I'll go as far as to invite you over. I'd say she's happy to have you here. Not angry at all."

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go."

"Thank you!" I said, glad to finally get through to him somewhat.

We headed downstairs and into the kitchen, and it was a bit busy. My mother was levitating platters of food all over the place, and my brothers were stealing bits of our dinner, only to get scolded a second later by my mum.

The only males that were acting civilized were Percy, Bill, and my father. I shook my head, smiling fondly. Well, that was until Fred set Percy's hair on fire. It got a bit crazy after that, and I held Harry back, not that I needed to, to avoid direct conflict with any of the oncoming fiascos.

My mother finally got everyone settled down, and I sat down at the table, Harry closely behind.

"You should always dye your hair black, Perce, it's a good look," I commented casually, reaching for the broccoli.

He glared at me for a moment before declaring, "_Your_ brothers decided it would be funny to try and murder me with magical fire."

I heard snickers come from the end of the table.

"Fred, George – you seem keen on degnoming the garden, so you can spend tomorrow doing so," my mother told my twin brothers.

Instantly, protests could be heard.

"Aw, mum –"

"We don't even live here anymore –"

"It'll take _forever_. They're hard to get out of the ground in the winter –"

"It was _Fred_ who did it –"

"Hey, it was _your_ idea –"

"Enough!" My brothers quieted down, and there was silence except for the clatter of plates and utensils.

"The Annual Frozen Quidditch Tournament is coming up this break, and Neville got tickets. Can I go?" Ron asked, breaking the quiet.

My parents looked at each other, communicating silently before my father nodded, finished swallowing, and said, "Sure, what day?"

"The twenty-ninth and thirtieth. It's actually an overnight thing. Like the Quidditch World cup, but it's only two days."

"That's my number twenty-five," Harry murmured quietly to me. I looked up at him.

"Really?" I asked, not quite as quietly as him. "Why didn't you mention it before? We could've gotten tickets."

Harry shrugged. "Just sort of assumed it wasn't important."

I opened my mouth to protest, but I was cut off by Charlie. "So, Harry, do you like Quidditch?"

Harry seemed to be taken off guard by being spoken directly to. Everyone was looking at him, and he seemed a little self-conscience. "Er – uh, well – yes."

"Are you on your house team?"

"Uh, no, I'm not really allowed to fly anymore… I was going to try out fifth year, but I overslept on tryout day, and this year...," Harry trailed off for a moment before regaining a proper smile and adding, "But I love to watch! The Wasps are my favorite."

Fred joined the conversation, "Oh, no way! I like the Barmy Bears, you see, and…."

I watched in fascination as my brothers and Harry participated in a long, drawn-out conversation about Quidditch. I didn't realize how much Harry was into Quidditch before, and I felt a bit sheepish for not knowing.

I didn't talk much for the rest of the dinner, choosing to observe my brothers and Harry hit it off. Harry seemed genuinely happy, and I was glad to see my brothers' first impressions didn't last. I wanted Harry to have a family, and letting him join mine seemed only right.

After dinner, I headed into the family room, while my brothers and Harry were still sitting at the table talking. It would be best just to let them be as they socialized, I decided as I collapsed onto the couch. But, not a moment later, Harry appeared in the doorway.

He came over to me and sat down next to me, taking my hand in his. "Hey, is everything okay? Why'd you leave?"

I laughed a little. "I'm just tired. You can go back in there and talk to them, you know. You guys really hit it off. I'm glad."

Harry shook his head, now smiling at me. "Nah, I enjoy your company more." He then looked a little worried. "Not that I don't enjoy their company or anything! Really, I do, I just like you more, and – wait, that sounds rude, but –"

I lay a finger over his mouth gently, smiling softly at him. "You're rambling, and it's fine. I understand. I enjoy your company more than theirs, too."

Harry smiled shyly at me from underneath his bangs. I sighed. He was so adorable. Unable to resist, I released his hand and embraced him with as much warmth as I could show. He returned it enthusiastically, and I smiled widely.

I never felt as loved or protected as I did then, held within Harry's arms.

Unfortunately, our moment was broken by a light cough. I sighed as I felt Harry let go of me immediately. Harry had been more affectionate than usual lately, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but we seemed to keep getting interrupted. Ron, Percy, Bill, and Charlie entered the room. Fred and George were probably off somewhere doing whatever mischief they do. I could hear my parents' voices carry in from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes when Harry wouldn't touch me just because my brothers walked in the room. They liked him, and touching me wasn't going to turn them against him. Harry was leaning up against the arm of the couch, so I curled up my legs behind me and leaned my body against Harry's side, wrapping an arm around his torso. He looked down at me hesitantly then back up to my brothers before wrapping a tender arm around my shoulders.

My brothers looked at the two of us, and I ignored their uncomfortable expressions. I knew they didn't really want to see me be affectionate with a boy, but they were just going to have to suck it up. I wasn't going to give up touching Harry for anything.

"So, the Annual Frozen Quidditch Tournament, huh?" I asked.

Ron nodded excitedly. "Yeah, it's going to be great!"

"Who's all going?"

"Me and Neville. Hermione is off on some French holiday or something and couldn't come," Ron said, rolling his eyes. I smiled a little. I was pretty sure Ron had a crush on Hermione.

"So you have extra tickets?" I inquired.

My brother shrugged. "Maybe, I dunno. I'd have to ask Neville."

"Could you?" I felt Harry squeeze my side gently, and I realized he had caught onto my plan. I ignored him.

"Sure, I'll send him an owl later. Why're you asking?"

I shrugged. "Well, I thought that if there were extra tickets, then maybe Harry and I could go."

"Oh, that would be great! Have you ever seen a professional Quidditch game, Harry?"

I felt Harry shake his head. "Nope. Why? Is it good?"

"The best! Before fourth year we all went to the Quidditch World Cup – it was amazing! I hope Neville has a spare ticket – then you could come, Harry! That'd be wicked."

"Hey!" I protested. "What about me?"

Ron nodded vaguely. "Uh – sure."

I stared at him, slightly insulted, but he didn't notice my glare and kept talking to Harry. My other brothers started in again, and soon I was observing just like at dinner. I really loved that my family and Harry got along, but, when it became clear they weren't going to stop talking, I got tired and untangled myself from Harry.

"I'm going to bed – I'm exhausted," I announced, quickly leaving when it was clear that my brothers weren't going to respond to my comment as they were too engrossed in their conversation – again.

I had just made it outside the door to my room when I felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist. I laughed, turning around to look up at Harry. "You do realize that you can stay and talk to them even though I'm not there, right?"

Harry grinned a little. "Yeah, but I wanted to say goodnight to you. You didn't give me the chance down there."

I couldn't help myself and grinned fondly up at Harry. I pressed my face into his warm chest, hugging him tightly to me. I released him and I grabbed his hand.

"Let's just hang out for a while then," I said, pulling him into my room, closing the door behind us.

"I thought you were tired."

I shrugged. "Well, I'm not anymore." Harry rolled his eyes at me, but he was smiling.

I jumped onto my bed and leaned up against the headboard. Harry stood near my door, looking over at me hesitantly.

"Are you going to come over here and sit down or are you going to stand there all night?" I asked. I saw a light blush grace Harry's cheeks as he walked over and sat at the end of my bed.

We were quiet for a moment as Harry looked around my room curiously. "I like your room," Harry suddenly declared. "It's… you."

I laughed softly. "Thanks."

"If a bit messy."

"It's not messy!" I exclaimed, looking around my perfectly neat room.

Harry gave me a look before glancing over at my desk. It had a stack or two of books and magazines on it, but other than that it was clean. "Whatever you say."

"Just because I'm not naturally meticulously clean like you doesn't mean I don't have a neat room!" I countered. "Everything is organized… that's neat in my opinion. I know where everything is."

"Touché."

"Thank you!"

"You want to know number eleven?" Harry asked me suddenly, looking at me with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, what?"

"Stay up all night. No sleeping."

"What? You've never done that before?"

Harry shook his head, his black bangs falling into his eyes.

"Well, then, we'll just have to fix that."

Harry grinned. "But I don't know when it would be the right time to stay up all night. I don't really fancy being tired for the next day. Lord knows I'm already tired enough."

I felt a surge of sadness flow through me, but I tried my best to hide it. I smiled at him. "We'll do it this break. Not tonight, though. I'm dead tired."

"You said you weren't tired!"

"I lied."

"Why?"

I shrugged, smiling a little self-consciously. "I just wanted to be with you a little longer."

Harry returned the shy smile and scooted over towards me. "Same. That's mainly the reason I came upstairs after you."

"So you could have your wicked ways with me?"

Harry looked scandalized. "What? Of course not! You would never let –" He stopped talking when he saw my face. I was laughing.

"I'm teasing," I told him.

"I realize that now," he said stubbornly.

"And, actually, Harry, I probably _would_ let you have your wicked ways with me." Harry's face flamed. "You're not all that wicked, after all."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm just as wicked as the next bloke!"

"Of course you are, dear," I assured him, smiling.

Harry looked at me with an odd expression on his face, and I raised an eyebrow at him. And then his only warning was a smirk before his lips came crashing down onto mine.

I let out a surprised moan as he leaned over me, pushing me down into my pillows softly. My hands reached up and intertwined themselves in his ebony hair as he shifted his body on top of mine. I shivered at the feeling of his body pressed into me.

His lips moved from mine and trailed down my cheek and onto my neck near my ear. "Mmm…," he said in between kisses. "I love you."

I melted under his embrace and moved my hands under his shirt. I began to push it up, and he obliged when I pulled it off and over his head. My breathing stopped when I saw his naked torso. He was very thin and very pale, but at the same time I loved the sight. He was slim in an alluring way, and I couldn't help myself from running my hand down the length of his back.

He pulled away from my neck to stare down at me vulnerably. I looked up at him reassuringly, leaning up and kissing his lips gently. He didn't lean back down and kiss me like I expected him to but instead blushed slightly and looked down. I looked too to see one of his hands reaching out to play with the bottom of my shirt.

I understood what he meant, and, blushing as well, I reached down and guided his hand up my side, pulling the fabric up slowly, revealing more and more skin every second. He looked back up at my face, and the look he gave me left me breathless. It was determined and full of love and lusty. I had never seen Harry give me that look before, and I we kept eye contact with each other until the shirt went over my head.

He leaned back down onto me, pressing his lips onto my neck, as our bare torsos rubbed up against each other. If I thought that I liked touching Harry while clothed, it was nothing compared to touching him without clothes. My body was an oven as our skin brushed up against each other.

"Like I said – I'm just as wicked as the next bloke," Harry murmured lustily in my ear.

A giggle somehow pushed its way out through my lips and the hazy heat. "I'm not arguing."

When Harry left sometime later, I lay back on my bed, grinning to the ceiling. I couldn't help but feel like the giddy, hormonal teenager I was as I thought of Harry. It had been an interesting day.

**A/N: I'm not gonna lie – this chapter was hard to write. Hope it isn't too boring or anything. Normally if it's hard to write, it turns out boring. Or shitty. Or both.**

**I pulled the muscles in my neck on Friday lifting weights, and I'm in a lot of effing pain. I was incapable of doing anything but lay in my bed in agony yesterday, and today isn't much better. I've taken like 10 million Advil. I'm pissed that my neck is hurt – I don't like it. When I typed this chapter, every word was a challenge. It seems typing causes my neck to flex or something because it was quite literally painful to type this. So that's why I updated today and not yesterday - the pain had to lessen at least a little.**

**Things are a little overwhelming right now, but after May 14ish I should be able to update more regularly. May 14 is when my health project is due, which I plan working on more after the May 8 AP exam (ahhh!). Goodness gracious me.**

**Not that any of you are really concerned with my overwhelming life, but hey, whatever.**

**I love to update though, so I've worked throughout the week in the little free time available to finish this up. Thank you all for your kind feedback :)**


	14. Cheer

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Cheer**

_The lights go on  
the lights go off  
when things don't feel right  
I lie down like a tired dog  
licking his wounds in the shade_

when I feel alive  
I try to imagine a careless life  
a scenic world where the sunsets are all  
breathtaking

_Scenic World_ Beirut

"Happy Christmas!" My brother shrieked loudly in my ear.

"Oh, _shut up_, Ron!"

"Aw, get up, it's Christmas."

I stuffed my face into my pillow. "To you, that only means presents."

"No, of course it isn't. There's a lot more to Christmas than just presents."

I peeked out an eye to look at my brother. "Like what?" I asked curiously.

"Well, there's food."

I groaned, stuffing my face back into my pillow. "Go away. It's early. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"And for what reason? Could it have something to do with a certain green-eyed wonder?"

"Ah, _leave!_"

"So it was?"

"No. Now leave before I castrate you. It's –" I checked the clock beside my bed quickly "– seven. That's way too early. Can't you go bother someone else?"

"No one besides Mum wants to get up," he whined. "_Please? _I won't have to suffer in agony alone then."

"You're not in agony. It's Christmas. You love this holiday to death. Just go downstairs and eat food or something, like you obviously want to."

"_Please?_"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I'm fucking _tired_."

"Because of Harry."

"No, not because of Harry."

"Then why –"

"Ginny?"

"Harry!" I exclaimed, quickly scrambling out from under the sheets and tackling Harry in a tight hug.

Ron grumbled off to the side, looking at the two of us, annoyed. "Oh, so _now_ you want to get up."

I ignored that comment as I kissed Harry's cheek, pulling out of his embrace and looking up into his smiling face.

"What? No hug and kiss for me?" my brother complained mockingly.

I looked over at him, shaking my head. "No. You just woke me up at seven in the morning."

"But Harry got you out of bed."

"Would you prefer it if he got me back into bed?"

"Oh, ew! And, Potter, you better not be doing anything like that! Or even thinking about it!" Ron threatened, aiming at Harry a fierce stare. Harry blushed and looked down at his feet.

"Wait –"

"So, how about those presents and food you so _desperately_ want, Ron?" I cut him off, trying to alleviate any of the suspicions he may have gained from Harry's red cheeks.

He tried to protest, but I promptly guided him out of my room by the arm, throwing a look back at Harry. He quickly followed, his red cheeks lightening ever so slightly.

We finally got downstairs, and I saw that my entire family was already there. I turned to glare at Ron, releasing his arm immediately. "You said that no one else was up!"

"Well, I thought it'd be easier to get you up if you thought I was lonely."

I rolled my eyes, sighing. We had a nice breakfast, and, per usual, my brothers and Harry chatted happily. Afterwards, my brothers and father went into the living room while I stayed behind to help clean up.

"Oh, Harry, dear, I almost forgot!" my mother exclaimed, opening one of the cupboards. She pulled out a vial of the potion he had to take, pouring some into a cup. Harry accepted it and was starting to drink it when Fred wandered in.

"Mum, Dad says that we have… to… what is that you've got there, Harry?"

Harry swallowed the last of his potion quickly, setting the glass in the sink. "Excuse me?"

"I said, 'what is that you –"

"What did your father want, Fred?" my mother cut in.

"Oh, um, he said that we couldn't start opening presents until the three of you haul arse into the living room."

"Watch your language!"

"Of course, mum."

And, after putting the last of the dishes away, we all hauled arse into the living room, Fred casting Harry a curious look. Harry acted as if he were completely oblivious to Fred's suspicions.

"You owled him back, yes, Ron?" my father asked.

"Yeah, I asked Neville if he had extra tickets too."

"Why's that?"

"We want Harry to come too."

"What about me?" I cut in.

"What about you?"

"I want to go."

"Unlikely."

"That's tough," Harry reasoned.

"But not unreasonable," Ron replied. "Neville might not have enough tickets for both of you."

"True, I suppose."

"But –" I tried to cut in, but Ron had already moved on from the subject of the Annual Frozen Quidditch Tournament.

"Presents!"

My large family slowly devoured each and every present. I got Harry a pair of ice skates. I thought he would enjoy them, and they held a bit of nostalgic, sentimental value. I watched him unwrap the skates slowly. He was one of _those_ people. The people that just don't understand the ultimate joys of tearing and ripping wrapping paper and as a result end up unfolding all of the paper off and putting it in a neat pile to save for the next year. I rolled my eyes. This was exasperating.

Harry opened the box to the skates, and, as soon as he saw them, his face scrunched up into one of despair, amusement, and happiness. Seeing the odd reaction, I asked him about it.

"Open yours." I did as he asked and opened Harry's present to me.

It was a pair of ice skates.

"Great minds think alike, eh?" I asked, finally understanding his feelings.

"Don't I know it?"

I laughed, and he did too. Charlie, who was sitting next to me, asked me about our amusement. I told him about the skate misconception.

He shook his head. "Sometimes, I swear. I've only known Harry for a few days, yet you two are ridiculously similar. I guess this proves that."

I smirked, pleased with Charlie's words.

"Too bad it's drippy out, yeah? Then we could go skating on the pond out back."

"Drippy?"

"Everything's melting. You know, it's not always cold in England. Mostly it's just rainy."

Harry laughed, closing the lid to the skates. "I realize that. I've lived in England for what… sixteen years?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah. But not eighteen."

"No."

An uncomfortable silence rested down upon us as I tried to listen to the inane chatter around me. Ron had just opened a box from the twins, which was rather idiotic actually, and he was now sporting a hefty black eye.

"Go to hell," Ron said to Fred and George. My father, who had heard the comment, chose to ignore it.

"Christmas cheer is all around…," I sang lightly. My father shot me a look. I quieted. Harry chuckled.

"Since it's, as you say _dripping_, and not snowy and cold, as I know you sometimes dislike, would you like to go on a walk with me later?" Harry asked.

"Oh that'd be fun – you know me well, my friend. Maybe we could walk to town or something. They always have interesting things to do down there during Christmas."

"A Muggle town?"

"Yeah, it's fun."

"I think I'd like that."

"Good. I'm glad."

Harry smiled at me and slung his arm around my shoulders. We were sitting on the raised platform in front of the fireplace, and I burrowed my body into his side.

I could see my brothers avoiding looking at us. It made them uncomfortable, but I only smiled a little, amused.

---

We walked down the moist road together, side by side. I had a warm fleece on, and a pair of gloves that Harry loaned me. They were a bit big, but their warmth was comforting like a fire.

We were halfway to town when it happened. "Oh, shit!" I moaned.

"What?" Harry asked. We stopped walking. I had just stepped in a huge pile of freezing mud, and my sneaker was soaked. Harry, recognizing my predicament, sympathized with me.

"Can't you just get your wand out or something and make it dry?" I asked.

"I left it at your house," Harry rebutted.

"Why?"

"I just forgot it. Sorry, do you want to go back?"

"No, no… we're almost there. I'll just have to deal with my hypothermic foot."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, let's keep going."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

We continued onto town, my foot feeling worse with each passing second, and Harry kept sending me amused glances. I barely restrained myself from complaining.

We finally arrived in Ottery St. Catchpole to discover none of the usual attractions were there. There was no sleigh ride in sight and definitely no horses; the décor that filled the town square was nonexistent; the usually welcoming pubs were unlit and empty; the streets were deserted, but there were cars lining the street. People should be here, but it looked… abandoned. It was _always_ busy on Christmas, despite the fact that it was a holiday, and this empty city was creepy.

I shivered, spooked. "This is _bizarre_," I muttered in amazement, looking around at the ghostly town. "The town is completely bare. It's deserted!"

Harry's expression was similar to mine. "I have a bad feeling about this place," he murmured.

Suddenly, I heard a noise come from a second story window on top of a pub. It sounded like a cry, but it was quickly stifled. I moved towards the nearby pub's entrance, intending to check out what ever was upstairs. I felt a hand slip into mine tightly. There was a pull on my shoulder, and I turned to look at Harry.

He was hesitant as he looked up at the pub over my shoulder. "C'mon, we should go," he said, his voice soft but demanding.

"Don't you want to see what's in there?" I asked.

Harry considered it for a moment, and I could tell he was curious. Just when I thought he was about to agree, he shook his head. "No. Let's go."

"But –" I tried to protest. Another cry resounded down from the building, and we both looked up. It was louder and sounded panicked. I tried to run in and help the person in obvious need that was trapped up there, but I was tugged back again.

"No, we need to leave. Now."

"But what about that cry – what if someone needs help –?"

"No!" It was a sharp note, and I was taken aback. Harry never yelled. Harry relaxed a slight bit, but he looked frightened. Harry shook his head once more, pulling me against my will away from the town.

"Harry!" I cried as he walked quickly, causing me to stumble as I tried to pull away from his quick strides. "We need to go back! We need to help them! You're a Gryffindor – be brave –!"

Harry slapped a hand over my mouth. "Be quiet," he whispered in a dead serious voice. I would have protested again if the look in Harry's eyes hadn't scared me so much. He looked panicked and frightened. "Trust me with this. We need to get out of here – before it's too late. Before they hear you."

_Before what was too late? Before who hears me?_ But I didn't ask him because at that precise moment I heard an inhuman shriek come from an alley in between one of the nearby buildings. A feeling of dread suddenly overcame me, and my heart froze. I was quickly terrified by that sound.

Harry paled, sheet white. "Run," he whispered in one frantic syllable.

I listened, my heart pounding suddenly with adrenaline. I ran as fast as I could towards where my house was. Harry was in hot pursuit as we sprinted across the town. My wet shoe squeaked as I fled, but I ignored it, my entire being on fire.

We were just outside of town and passing by some forest when I heard heavy breathing behind me that definitely wasn't Harry's.

"Don't look!" Harry ordered quietly but frantically. "If you look you're doomed."

I did as Harry ordered, not even thinking about arguing with him. I tried to run faster against my protesting lungs and legs.

"We're almost to the Burrow! There are wards that keep whatever we don't want in – out," I panted. The heavy breathing became louder, and another thrill of terror visited me.

The Burrow was in sight and I pushed myself as hard as I could to get to it – get away from whatever horror was behind me. I fled through the gate and heard Harry right behind me. The heavy breathing became farther away, but I still ran all the way to my front door, opening it sharply and collapsing in the kitchen, not looking back.

Harry, slightly more calmly, entered the kitchen as well. I panted, dizzy, and I would have fallen over if Harry hadn't been there to catch me. He steadied me, and I buried my head in his chest, quietly sobbing from relief.

That was the most fearful I had ever been, but it couldn't all have been my own. That fear had somehow been induced artificially – like a Dementor almost.

Charlie, Bill, and Percy were sitting at the table, their casual chatting ceasing at the appearance of Harry and me.

I could hear concerned mutterings from my brothers as I clutched onto Harry, trying to calm my quiet, choking cries and beating heart, but I ignored them. Harry clung to me as well, but he wasn't crying at all. Just breathing hard from the rush of sprinting.

"Pleurecrieds," Harry announced solemnly.

"No!" I heard my brothers object. My heart skipped a beat as comprehension dawned on me.

Pleurecrieds were vile creatures that could immobilize a human with just a single breath from their rotting lungs. They were horrible luck and one rarely survived an encounter with them. If a single breath of theirs were to reach someone, they would become ill-fated in someway. They could kill just by touching someone with a finger, but they didn't move too fast – a human speed. If one were fast enough they could outrun them.

Harry and I just ran from one. The heavy breathing – the fear – the abandoned town – it made sense. The Pleurecrieds had done something to the people in the town. They had killed them. They were dead.

"Oh, God," I groaned, collapsing into a chair in exhaustion and horror. My brothers quickly tended to me, asking me if I was alright and trying to help me. I responded to all of their questions, but I vaguely noticed Harry off to the side, seemingly completely well from the attack. In fact, he seemed more concerned for my own help than his own.

"Did it breathe on you?" Bill asked. I shook my head.

"She would be temporarily paralyzed if it breathed on her," Harry said. He took a seat at the table adjacent to me. He leaned his head on his elbow, observing me with a tired but relieved expression on his face.

"I'm so relieved they didn't get you," Harry murmured.

"Me, too!" I vehemently agreed. "I'm glad they didn't get you, too."

Harry shrugged indifferently. "A little too late for that I guess."

My eyes widened as he looked away and out the window forlornly at the hills in the distance.

Percy broke the silence first. "What do you mean? Surely they couldn't have gotten you! You're here and perfectly fine!"

Harry took a deep breath before he looked up at the four of us. "It wasn't today that they got me… I was seven."

I stared at him a moment before slowly asking him, "So… is this why you… why you're…"

Harry nodded, suddenly looking twice his age. "Yeah. They got my dad, too. We were downtown and if it weren't for my dad's automatic alert to the Aurors we would have just died then and there."

My mind raced as I acquired this new information. Harry was sick because of Pleurecrieds. They had thrust upon him a fate of doom and unhappiness. He was attacked as a young boy. His father and he had been given the same fate. Death from cancer.

I leaned forward on my knees, shoving my forehead in my hands. I let out a choked sob. "I'm gonna be sick," I managed to get out before rushing over to the sink and vomiting. Charlie rushed over to me and rubbed my back soothingly and got me a glass of water.

"Thanks."

"What I don't understand is what… what did the Pleurecrieds do to you, Harry? What did they do to your father?" Bill asked.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. I returned to my seat as well. Charlie, Bill, and Percy followed my lead.

"Well… for one, they left me with this scar… where they breathed on me," Harry answered, lifting up his bangs to reveal his lightening bolt scar. "They left one on my father's forearm."

"What did the scar do to you?" Charlie asked curiously.

"It… it made me sick. It made my father sick too. But it was gradual, and we didn't know we were sick until it was too late." Harry looked up at me, and he seemed to be struggling with the words – as if they were physically painful to get out. He seemed to be asking me to finish what he wanted to get out.

"Harry has a Muggle disease called cancer," I said, monotone. I tried not to think too much about it. "It killed his father."

There was deafening silence throughout the kitchen. Charlie was the first to speak. "I'm so sorry," he breathed.

Harry tried to protest, but he was interrupted by Bill.

"Wait," he said. There was an odd gleam in his eye as he stared at Harry. "I'm a curse-breaker."

Harry nodded. I wondered where Bill was going with this. Charlie and Percy seemed to wonder as well.

"You're under a magical curse."

Harry laughed shakily. "I'm under a dark and irreversible magical curse."

"Yes, dark. No, irreversible," Bill said. "I'm going to find a way to break your curse."

At this declaration, Harry laughed bitterly. "I don't think that's possible."

I stared at Bill, suddenly seeing Harry's situation in a new light. Hope began to course through me rapidly. "Yes," I breathed.

Harry looked sharply at me. "No. It doesn't work like that. You can't help me," Harry said, aiming the last part at Bill. "I'll be gone by May and that's it!"

"Harry, I believe Bill may be onto something," Percy stated. "He's a cursebreaker for general artifacts and areas in Egypt, but this is just the same."

"It's not!" Harry cried.

"It is!" Bill insisted. "Let me try! Let me try to help you! I know I couldn't save your dad, but I need to save you. Please," he pleaded.

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. I reached out and grabbed onto his hand that was resting on the table. He looked at me when I made the contact.

"Please, Harry," I pleaded. "Bill's your only chance." He didn't look convinced. "He's _my_ only chance," I whispered.

Harry sighed and had to look away from my pleading face. He closed his eyes for a short moment before opening them. He looked over at Bill, a look of determination etched onto his face.

"Okay," he declared.

Bill's face twisted into a grim smile. "I won't let you down, Harry."

"If you say so." I let out a sob of relief. It wasn't over yet, but there was a sliver of hope in the once-seemingly black future.

**A/N: I haven't updated for a while because this week has been absolutely INSANE. Field commander auditions, track meets, make-up tests, **_**A Farewell to Arms**_**, AP tests… AH! TGIF. Or TJBIF (JB = Jack Bauer… Thank JB it's Friday). My class enjoyed a nice episode of **_**Seinfield**_** today in history class in celebration of the end of the APUSH test. It was a good one about fungus and Latvian Christians. I heart Jerry and George and Elaine and Kramer.**

**This chapter was 11 pages of writing. This was the longest chapter I've ever written for this story.**

**I stepped in a pit of muddy water at one of the track meets I went to this week. Then some goose poop.**

**I'm hoping to finish this by summer since I really want to write a new story I came up with. It's not going to be HarryGinny though. It's pretty bad that I can barely stand that pairing anymore and I write it haha. But I don't really mind writing it as much as reading it because I try not to make it too obnoxious. My story will prolly be slash. Maybe I'll just write both stories at once.**

**Personally, I always eat breakfast after presents.**

**Review, my kind fellows!**


	15. Loyalty

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Loyalty**

_  
I'm going where the __sun__ keeps shining  
Thru' the pouring rain  
Going where the __weather__ suits my clothes  
Backing off of the North East wind  
Sailing on summer breeze  
And skipping over the ocean like a stone_

_Everybody's Talking_ Harry Nilsson

Ron had gotten a response from Neville, and, sure enough, he had an extra ticket for Harry. And me too, surprisingly, which made me rather glad. I didn't want to stay home alone while the three ran off. Or even Harry deciding he didn't want me to feel left out, so he would stay behind as well. I would feel pretty guilty if Harry stayed behind just because I was sulking about missing a measly Quidditch tournament…

… well, okay, definitely _not_ measly. It was probably going to be the most fun game of Quidditch I would ever get to experience in all sixteen years of my insignificant life. While it was no Quidditch World Cup, I heard it was loads of fun. The pitch was supposed to be covered in snow and there were fireworks towards the end of the day. Outside of the pitch, there were supposed to be loads of activities – sort of like a fair. It was in celebration of finishing the year, and it wasn't just the Quidditch that made it worth going – it was the whole package. I couldn't help but feel ridiculously excited.

"Ginny, you're acting like a five year old on Christmas," my brother Ron dutifully pointed out as we stood in the kitchen waiting for Harry to come down and Neville to pick us up. Bill and Charlie were sitting at the kitchen table; Percy was at the Ministry working on some prissy project, and Fred and George were off at their shop.

Bill and Charlie were all decked out in snow gear, ready to leave the house at a moment's notice since my mum and dad had alerted the government about the Pleurecrieds in the village, and they were down there to help any remaining survivors. The Pleurecrieds, having been satisfied with the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, had moved on, and I shivered thinking about it.

It was horrible to think that my childhood home had disappeared in a mere day, and I became depressed every time I thought about it. I may not have been particularly close to any of the villagers, but there was that nostalgic, familiar comfort knowing that they would be there if I ever decided to venture down to town. It really brought down my Christmas spirit.

"Hush, Ron, you know you're excited, too," I retorted, causing Ron to roll his eyes at me, but he chose to ignore my comment verbally.

"Neville'll be here any minute now, so you better get that boyfriend of yours to get his skinny ass down here." Ron's insulting words were countered by a playful tone.

"Whatever," I said, but I looked up the stairs for a moment before deciding to get Harry. He _was_ taking a long time. "I'll be back in a minute."

I climbed the stairs and looked in the bathroom, but Harry wasn't there. I ventured up a little farther and opened Ron's room. Harry was sitting up against Ron's bed, and for a moment I thought he was okay. But then my heart skipped a beat. "Harry!"

I rushed to his side where he was wheezing and coughing. I was at a loss of what to do.

"Re – red," he coughed, patting my shoulder as if to get my attention. He could barely breathe.

My mind, which had stopped working for a few moments, finally caught up with me and I said in a rush, "I'll be right back, Harry, you'll be fine." I said most of that to reassure myself.

I rushed to the top of the stairs, yelling before I even reached them. "RON! Get Harry's red medicine bottle! It's in the cabinet next to the stove! Bring it here! Quickly!"

I could hear my brother's feet pounding to get it and he yelled something back, but I had already turned back around to reestablish my attention back to Harry.

I sat down next to him, rubbing his hair back. I felt completely useless. I made soft shushing noises to Harry with every stroke, and he kept on coughing. It was absolutely terrible. I couldn't help but feel my heart race with terror.

Finally, a seemingly decade later, Charlie, Bill, and Ron reappeared with the medicine and small cup.

"How much, Harry?" He struggled to talk. "Hold up your fingers to show how many cups." He held up one finger, and I quickly, with shaking hands, distributed him one cup of medicine. I helped him drink it, but he coughed again, and a little spilled onto the rug.

When the medicine was down, it was mere seconds before Harry's breathing returned to normal with only a cough here and there.

"Good lord, Harry," Charlie finally managed to get out. Harry let out a dry chuckle before collapsing into another fit of coughs. I rubbed his back soothingly while glaring at Charlie a bit unfairly.

The coughs died down soon enough, and I wrapped my arms around Harry, burying my face in his chest. I let out a relieved sob, but I don't think anyone but Harry noticed. I felt him return the hug, and I began to notice how much I was shaking.

I wanted to tell him how scared I was, but I didn't want to say anything in front of my brothers. They would worry more than they already were, so I just clung to Harry for another moment before pulling back. Harry's tired face was flushed, which I would have considered a nice change to his normally pale complexion had I not known what had brought it on.

"Ron?" a voice from downstairs called. We simultaneously looked towards the door.

"It's Neville," Ron explained before calling loudly, "We're up here, Nev!"

A few moments later, Neville, round faced and happy, appeared in the doorway. "Hello!" he said cheerfully to us. I put on the cheeriest face I could muster.

"Hey, Neville, how've you been?" I asked him in, and I was quite proud of myself for this, a normal, controlled voice.

"I've been good. My Gran, though, she's been complaining about her back for a week now, and I told her she just needed to take some of _Bessie's Burning Back Bubbling Concoction_, but she won't listen to me. Says it gives her gas." Neville rolled his eyes, and I couldn't help but smile at that.

The six of us sat in Ron's room talking for a few more minutes before I asked Harry quietly, so no one else noticed, if I could talk to him for a moment. He agreed, and we stood up.

"We'll be back," I told everyone, exiting the room before anyone could answer.

We didn't say anything until we reached my room. I sat down against the headboard on my bed. Harry sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Are you feeling up for this trip, Harry?" I asked. I was worried that he wouldn't feel well enough to get through it after the fit he just had.

Harry nodded his head, "Yeah, of course! This is what I've waited for all year!"

I rubbed the back of my neck before grimly saying, "I know you've been wanting to go all year, and I feel absolutely awful saying this, but I'm worried. I don't think you're feeling too good. I don't think you should go."

He began to protest, but I cut him off before he could get a word in. "I know that I can't know how you feel right now, but I can see you, and you look tired. I really think you need some rest – it can't be healthy going out in below zero weather when you look, and most likely feel, this awful." Harry had been looking a bit peaky for the past few days, and I had mostly ignored it in my excitement for the Qudditch tournament. I felt pretty guilty about the entire thing, actually.

Harry sighed and stared at a meaningless spot on my quilt before looking up to meet my gaze. "As much as I regret to admit this, you're right," Harry said forlornly.

I scooted over to sit beside him. "I know how much this meant to you, Harry, but I just don't feel right about you being sick and in the cold, and Quidditch games and festivals can get a bit intense and tiring. I'm really sorry."

Harry shook his head and smiled at me. "No, it's for the best. I'm just glad I have someone like you to look after me and make sure I don't do dumb things."

I laughed as I grabbed his hand in mine and kissed his cheek. I was more touched by his words than I cared to admit. "You're sweet, Harry, and you never do dumb things."

"Only because I have you." I met his gaze hesitantly, and he smiled shyly. My heart skipped a beat for a second time that day, but this time it was in a good way.

"You'll always have me." I just wished he could say the same to me. Maybe if Bill figured the curse out, he could. And soon.

"I'm glad, or else I'd be an idiot."

I laughed at him fondly before reaching up to ruffle his hair. He let out a grunt of protest and then reached over to ruffle my own hair. It was tied back, so it was completely ruined as soon as he tugged his fingers through it.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, tackling him down into the bed. I grabbed his sides, and he let out a yelp of laughter. I repeated the action, and he returned the favor when I was flipped over by him moments later.

"Do you surrender?" he asked me as I became breathless with laughter.

"N – n – no!" He kept tickling me, and I just couldn't handle it anymore. "O – okay, fine! I s – surrender!" Harry stopped tickling me, preferring instead to rub a soothing thumb near my temple, and I lay panting underneath him for a moment.

"Ginny, Harry… oh." It was Bill. But, being Bill, he didn't get all red faced and flustered. Less could be said about Harry.

Harry sat up and pulled me with him. "We have _got_ to stop getting caught in these types of situations, Harry," I muttered to him. He chuckled lightly.

We stood up and followed Bill back down to the kitchen where Neville and Ron were waiting. I wasn't sure where Charlie was.

"So are you guys ready to go?" Neville asked us.

"Um, well…," Harry began.

"We're not going," I said bluntly.

"_What?_" Ron exclaimed "But this morning you were about to pee yourself with jitters for this thing!"

"Yeah, what changed your mind?" Neville asked curiously.

I looked at Harry for a moment, and he shook his head – a sign that he didn't feel comfortable enough with Neville to let him know about his cancer. Time to take one for the team, I suppose.

"I got my period today. I have awful cramps, and it's _really_ bleeding something fierce down there, and I must have gone through at least _seven_ tamp –"

"Okay, okay, _stop_. We get the point," Ron said as he and Neville blushed brightly.

"So Harry's not coming either?" Neville asked, looking anywhere but me.

"No, he's a very loyal boyfriend, and he wants to make sure I'm alright." I struggled to keep a straight face as Ron cringed and Neville jerked his head awkwardly.

"Alright, well, er, hope you feel better, Ginny, but my Uncle Artie is waiting outside with a portkey, and we need to leave now. Ron?"

The pair bid us goodbye, and I turned back to Harry and Bill once they were gone.

Harry was red faced but smiling, and Bill was shaking his head at me in amusement.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Nothing, Ginny," Bill said.

Harry wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me into the living room, saying, "I love you something fierce."

I snorted.

**A/N: **_**It seems everywhere I go; the more I see, the less I know. But I know one thing, I love you, I love you, I love you…**_** those are song lyrics to the song called **_**Say Hey (I love you)**_**, and they're dedicated to you. Don't think I'm too much of a creeper or anything, I just feel bad for not updating for a month, so I have to get you to feel sympathetic towards me somehow…**

**I really do feel relieved now that I've gotten something down – I was having intense writers block for a moment there – I know how I want everything to finish, I just have a bit of trouble getting there. I was nervous as to whether or not I would be able to keep going I was so stuck. But no worries – I have gotten over it!**

**Are any of you as psyched as I am to watch **_**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince **_**at midnight this summer? Love that series… maybe you've heard of Harry Potter, too? He's my mothereffing lover, y'all.**

**I wrote this chapter instead of studying for my finals this week. In fact, I did a lot of things instead of study for my finals…**

**I'm going to Georgia next weekend to visit the grand rents, so I decided to give you a little somthin somthin before I left. **

**PS: Am I crazy, or did Neville mention an uncle in one of the books?**


	16. Modesty

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Modesty **

_If the children don't grow up,  
our bodies get bigger, but our hearts get torn up.  
We're just a million little gods causing rain storms turning every good thing to rust.  
I guess we'll just have to adjust._

_Wake Up_ Arcade Fire

Harry was sprawled out face-down across the couch, his breathing even and deep. One arm dangled off the cushion, brushing the ground while the other formed a crescent around his head: this is how he slept.

Harry, Fred, George, Charlie, and I relaxed in the living room (well, Charlie, Harry and I at least – Fred and George sat in the corner and looked _highly_suspicious while looking over some shady piece of parchment), listening to Annual Frozen Quidditch Tournament on the wireless. It didn't contain the same excitement as physically going to it, but it was better than nothing.

My parents were at some New Years Ministry function for my dad's floor at work, and Percy had retired to his room because he had "important, classified documents to process and translate for the corporate manager of the important, classified company" or something along those lines. Bill had packed and gone back to Egypt. He had some work he had to get back to, but he promised me before he left that he would do anything he possibly could to help Harry.

The kettle whistled, and I stood up from my chair, where yesterday's crossword puzzle, courtesy of the _Daily Prophet_, sat. I made the hot cocoa quickly when I entered the kitchen and took the pot off the stove.

Once I returned, though, I realized I didn't need quite as many mugs, seeing as Harry was still out cold on the couch, and Fred and George had evaporated. It had been a hard day for Harry, and I didn't blame him for falling asleep at only nine o'clock. He needed his rest.

Smiling fondly, if grimly, at my boyfriend, I turned to face the one remaining occupant of the room.

"Where did Fred and George go?" I asked Charlie, who was casually resting in an armchair. His eyes were closed, but I knew he was awake. I approached him and handed over the steaming cup. He took it and rested it lightly against his belly.

Lackadaisically, he cracked his right lid open to look at me before closing it once more. "Not sure, but they had their I'm-going-to-try-and-prank-someone-sleeping face on. They were also pretty quiet, and we both know nothing good can come of that."

Before I had time to process his words, my twin brothers returned with a shady bag to accompany their shady piece of parchment. They began to walk towards Harry, mischievous smirks adorning their freckled faces.

"Hey, hold up!" I shouted, finally comprehending what Charlie was implying. Fred and George stopped walking and looked at me innocently.

"Yes, Ginevra?" Fred asked sweetly. I rolled my eyes. They were anything but sweet and innocent.

"We just want to initiate the bloke into the family, seeing as you two are already a bit _too_touchy-feely for our taste," George added.

"If you have to pull a practical joke on someone, it will _not_ be Harry!" I ordered, quietly as I could since I didn't want to wake Harry, furious with my brothers. Couldn't they see that Harry was unwell? "_Especially_ when he's feeling so sick! He had a tough day today, and I won't have you lot making it worse than it already has been!"

My brothers' smirks faltered with my last comment. Of course: they didn't know about Harry's disease. Well, I suppose they would have to find out eventually – Fred had already acting a bit suspicious towards Harry since at least Christmas when he saw my mother giving Harry his daily dose of potion. He, at least, suspected something out of the ordinary was up.

I saw Fred open his mouth to comment, but I interrupted him by rounding on Charlie, who was calmly sipping the cocoa I made for him, casually leaning back in the recliner as if everything was all fine and dandy with the world. I could feel my face heat up, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down a bit. "And you were just going to _let them_ prank him? Aren't you supposed to be the mature one? You're almost twenty-five, for Merlin's sake! You _know_ Harry hasn't had a good day today, and you were just going to let them mess with him?" I huffed, setting the cups of steaming drinks in my hands down on a nearby table before glaring at my brothers.

Charlie sighed, standing up from his sitting position, and began to approach me. "Look, Gin, I'm sorry, I didn't real—" He stopped abruptly as Harry lightly whimpered in his sleep. I immediately rushed to his side, anger briefly forgotten as a rush of worry clouded my senses, knelt down, and brushed back his bangs from his eyes. He began to stir, and I rubbed his forehead with my thumb in what I hoped was a soothing manner.

"Oh, god, he's _burning_," I moaned. I took a deep breath, finally realizing it was not proper to panic in such situations. Within moments, I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, and I looked back to see George holding up a damp washcloth. He smiled grimly at me as I took the washcloth and laid it against Harry's forehead.

"So… what exactly is the matter with him?" I heard one of the twins ask Charlie quietly. Harry shifted irritably in his sleep, shivering, and I quickly tried to make him more comfortable. I pulled out my wand and conjured a quilt over him before standing up and turning to face my two curious brothers.

My wire wasn't exactly long at the moment. "He has cancer," I said, "and he's dying." I didn't wait to see their reactions as I turned back to Harry, but, not a moment later, came a loud knock on the front door leading into the house. It made us all jump, and I looked down at my boyfriend to find him still fast asleep.

My brothers and I exchanged glances, Fred and George still in a mild state of shock, before Charlie left the room to answer the door, leaving us in uncomfortable silence for a minute. I unnecessarily fussed over Harry's blanket to occupy myself.

Charlie returned shortly but with a very cold and very upset red-eyed blond in tow who was carrying a brown, leather suitcase.

"Carter!" I exclaimed, rushing forward and holding my tired friend at an arms length. "What on earth _happened?_"

He was quaking underneath my fingers. "No, wait – here. You're freezing: have some hot chocolate – it's fresh." I pushed Carter into the chair I recently vacated, shoving a steaming mug of hot chocolate into his numb palms. He barely spared a glance at Harry, who was completely oblivious to the drama unfolding around him.

George, eloquent as ever, asked, "What the _bloody hell_ happened to you, mate?"

Carter sighed, staring at his feet. "Well, it's like this… I broke up with my girlfriend today and then told my parents I was gay."

My mouth fell open.

A week went by since Carter arrived at the Burrow in a state of disarray, and we were back at school. Carter, for the most part, kept to himself. He was still rather distraught from the less than fortunate events over break, and he generally avoided any discussion about anything involving his family and his newly revealed sexuality. Carter's parents, my family, Harry, Neville Longbottom, and I were the only people who knew about which way he really swung. He was still shy about it, though, and hadn't told anyone else at school about the events that had occurred over break. I understood his hesitancy towards the subject and wasn't pressuring him to reveal his true self publicly. He would be treated even more differently than he already was for being associated with Harry and me. Honestly, I didn't blame him.

The morning after Carter crashed in my home, I woke up at the crack of dawn. I barely slept the night before – I was uncomfortably hot and aware of the fact that Carter had been kicked out of his house by his rather conservative parents because of his surprising sexuality. That, on top of the fact that Harry had a raging fever the night before, I was a wreck. It took a few days for Carter, Harry, and I to recover from the entire mess.

I was currently finishing my third to last community service day with Harry down by Professor Hagrid's hut. We finally, after two hours of chaos, finished herding all of the baby dungshufflers into heated cages, as they were shedding their bright purple fur and would soon be going through their second growth phase in which they would grow bright blue spikes and brown scales to accompany their anteater-like snouts. They couldn't go cold, after all.

Harder than anticipated, the creatures offered us a challenge, seeing as they seemed to have an affinity for dung. And, since there wasn't any in the immediate vicinity, they tended to stick their long noses in rather invasive parts of Harry's and my anatomy. This made for a slow, uncomfortable herding, in which the dungshufflers would loyally follow our behinds into the cage. I was disturbed by the whole ordeal.

Slamming the cage door shut, I locked it, leaned against it, and wiped my sweating brow.

I stared at Harry with an exasperated expression on my face. "If I had known that my community service hours would be filled with little fuzzy creatures sniffing my butt, I would have gotten in trouble years ago!"

Harry snorted and grabbed my hand in his, pulling me back up towards the castle. "Why do you think I do all these community hours, huh?" Harry asked. "Surely not out of the kindness in my heart? I admit, I just love all those dungshufflers sticking their noses invasively up my arse."

"You would."

Harry grabbed my side, and I giggled, instinctively arching away. I swatted his ear in retaliation.

We entered the castle, and when I skipped a hallway that led to the Gryffindor common room, Harry asked curiously, "So, where exactly am I following you?"

"You'll see," I said, sending Harry a sideways glance. "It's Friday."

"Good observation," Harry commented.

I nudged him in the side with my elbow. With my physical prompting, he continued, playing along with me and hiding a smile. "And this is important, why?"

"Because tomorrow is Saturday."

"Yes, that's normally the way it works."

"Your dry quips are not appealing to me much, darling."

"So, uh... What's so important about Saturday?"

"Smooth subject change. But, since you clearly don't know: on Saturday, we have no school. No community hours to complete, either. We're scot-free. You know what this means, don't you?"

"Er… not really. Should I?"

"Yes, because," I said, and I pulled the two of us to a halt in front of a black door, "you're going to get to complete number eleven."

I released Harry's hand, walking forward to open the door to the room I had found a few years ago. I had kept it a secret from my friends since it was where I went whenever they got to be too much. It meant a lot to me, and I had never shown it to another person. I hoped Harry was impressed. It was in a rather secluded part of the castle, so I wasn't sure if anyone else knew it was here except for maybe Dumbledore.

"I get to stay up all night?" Harry asked, looking around the room with interest.

"Yes."

The room was a soft cream color with had a rather large, red sofa; a fireplace, and many other assorted bits of furniture and paintings. It reminded me of the Gryffindor Common Room, except much less grand.

The fireplace came to life as soon as I entered the room, bathing the air with a warm glow, creating shadowed nooks and crannies behind tables and vases. An array of windows lined one wall with a view over the icy lake.

"It's like the Room of Requirement, almost," muttered Harry behind me. He closed the door, and I heard its lock click.

I spun to face him. "What's that?"

Harry, still observing the room, answered, "It's a room on the seventh floor that changes to be whatever you need it to be. It's quite useful. Dobby the House Elf showed it to me a while back."

"Sounds interesting." Was this room not good enough for Harry? It seemed to me like he already had a place he liked to hideaway in – my room – this room – couldn't possibly compare. I wrung my hands together.

Harry turned to look at me, and I swear he read my mind. "Nah. It's alright, but it's rather impersonal. Always shifting and changing to meet people's needs. I think I like this room more. It's homier – like the Burrow. It's the school's Burrow. I know, at least, it won't shift and move while I'm in it. It'll always be the same."

I allowed the corners of my lips to upturn slightly. He always somehow knew how to make me feel better. Him, and his good heart and humor and green eyes covered by ugly glasses and messy hair.

A curious smile slowly creeped up Harry's face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

I shrugged hopelessly, involuntary smile never leaving my face. "You just have nice hair." I was an idiot, but I couldn't help it.

His curious smile turned slightly confused yet amused. He took a step towards me. "Well, you have nice hair, too." He took another step towards me.

"Good to know we have mutual likings for one another's hair, then." One more step was made, and there were only inches between us.

He leaned down, pressing our lips together, our arms still by our sides. My hand automatically entwined into his silky black locks. "Nice hair," I murmured against his lips, and he laughed into my mouth, but soon my tongue was chasing away his chuckles.

Things grew heated fast, and the hand that wasn't preoccupied with his hair fisted his shirt in a bunch. His hands were everywhere. He ended the kiss.

We were both breathing rather heavy, our warm breath kissing each others faces as we panted lightly, still holding each other closely.

"Since we're going to stay up all night…," Harry trailed off uncertainly.

I heard the unanswered question, and I felt my face flush. "Since we're going to stay up all night," I repeated, "why not…"

Harry leaned down and kissed my lips chastely, peeling his lips off of mine even as I leaned up, trying to follow them.

I brought up my hand to rest my palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes, turning his head to press his lips gently against it before turning back and looking me straight in the eye.

"I want to do this," I said. I smiled up at him, chest and stomach in knots.

He returned the shaky smile. "Me, too."

Taking a deep breath, I met his mouth halfway. We stood there for a little while, unsure as to when it should escalate.

It became clear as Harry pulled me up against himself tighter, suddenly more confident, I put my hands on his shoulders, slowly easing them down his arms, pulling his long, black robe with them.

Our lips released. My outer robes were shed, but it got a little complicated with my shoes and tights. I got my shoes off alright, but Harry, attempting to hurry up the process, tried to drag my tights down at the same time. I fell backwards, Harry unable to catch me. I laughed. Harry looked horrified. I laughed harder.

When Harry only looked at me sheepishly, I yanked on his pants to get him to sit down. Instead, his pants, unbuckled and zipped from my earlier ministrations, dragged down around his ankles. He fell to the floor with me in a state of mortification. But, with me laughing into his shoulder, he got over the embarrassment quickly and began to giggle, too. We sat there for a long time, tears streaming down our faces.

Finally, after long, painful moments, we cooled down with only the occasional snort.

"We're silly, aren't we?" I asked, smiling shyly up at Harry.

Harry returned the smile, nodding. "We are." We giggled quietly for a few moments before once more stopping when I felt Harry's hand against the bra clasp under my now unbuttoned shirt. Funny I didn't notice that happening.

"Go ahead," I muttered encouragingly.

Harry took a deep breath before fumbling for a few moments, finally getting the clasp undone. He hesitantly took the straps off my arms, and I shivered when I was fully revealed, feeling my face burn brighter than a ripe tomato. I had to resist the urge to cover myself up self-consciously. I reminded myself that this was not just some random bloke, but Harry. _My _Harry.

Eventually, after some tense seconds where I swear I didn't even breath, some of the modesty went away, and I was able, once more, to look at Harry in the face.

We removed the rest of our garments with less insecurity, but we were still undeniably shy.

It was just the way I thought it would be.

**Edit: 11/18/2009**

**I had to change this chapter. I wanted to become bulimic every time I tried to reread it. That's how bad it got. Really.**

**You probably haven't noticed, but I've edited like two chapters over the past few months, attempting to make them readable. Thanks for your patience.**

**Meanwhile, thanks for all the reviews and support. I'm going to try and get back in the swing of things and actually write. Dying after the velociraptor attack (see profile for further details) really took a lot out of me.**

**PS: While using the word "homely," please do not refer to a home as that unless it really is "hideous," as the word "homely" suggests. Thank you: that is all.**


	17. Determination

**The Bent Boy**

**By ValorOrgulloso**

**Determination**

_The valley will become my home her hills will keep me safe  
I'll give her songs about my soul when there's no soul left to take  
And I'll forget I ever lived in any other place _

_And it may seem inevitable I would love this fate  
So beautiful and tragic and her heroes can't escape  
And Hemingway he shot himself one July evening late_

_But me I couldn't bring myself to bloody Ketchum's name  
Underneath her passion boils, never spoils surface tame  
I'll slowly let her kill me with her lonely wind and rain  
Her lonely tears and pain_

_Ketchum _Ben Lee

My feet were cold. I wiggled my toes in vain, attempting to lose the numbness that had overcome. Hair tickled my nostrils. I sneezed, distressing something alive and warm below me. It growled.

"'S too early," the thing complained.

I sat up, finally opening my eyes, still on top of the groggy boy. I smacked his bottom lightly. "I think our debacle to stay up all night failed, Grumpy."

"Hm."

"Although, it was rather enlightening. Do all boys make noises like that when doing it, or is that your forte only?"

I squeaked when Harry pushed me off his back, pinning me back into the couch. "Watch it, or –"

"Or what? You'll 'have your wicked ways with me'?"

Harry smirked, pushing his bare chest off mine, leaning back into the couch. "It wouldn't be out of the question."

"Depends if I'd let you." Quite aware of the fact that we were sitting there in our birthday suits, I looked for something to cover myself or Harry up with. The blanket we had conjured up just before falling asleep was nowhere to be seen. I almost cursed aloud when I saw my clothes strewn across the other side of the room. It would be obvious if I got up now to grab them. I didn't want Harry to think I was uncomfortable around him, even if I was an inch away from turning into a human sun. I wasn't embarrassed to be around him like this, but a little decency never hurt anyone.

"Are you saying you regret –"

"Of course not, you dolt," I said, hitting the closest part of Harry I could reach – in this case, his knee.

"Oh, thank Merlin." Harry stared up at the ceiling, smiling blissfully.

"You don't regret anything, either, right?" He had better not.

"Merlin, no," Harry said, turning his head ninety degrees to smile at me reassuringly. I couldn't resist leaning in for a quick kiss. When I pulled back, Harry grinned cheekily. "Does this mean you're ready for round two?"

I rolled my eyes but leaned in for more.

It wasn't until some hours later when Harry and I left the room (we had to pee at some point, after all). We missed breakfast, vying instead for Harry's suggestion for 'round two.' We went our separate ways in order to get cleaned up. When I entered my dorm, Vanessa was just finishing up.

She ignored me as I gathered up my shower supplies, but, when I accidentally bumped into her going into the bathroom, she spoke, albeit stiffly. "Where were you last night?" Talk about awkward.

"Why do you care?" I narrowed my eyes. She hadn't talked to me in weeks, and our last encounter had been none-too-friendly, so why start now?

She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Just wo..." She stopped abruptly, looking even more rigid than before. "Nevermind." And then she left the dormitory, leaving me to wonder what she meant to say.

I cleaned up quickly, and I'd be lying if it didn't have something to do with Harry. I felt like a total sap.

Hurrying down the stairs, I looked around the Common Room. Harry wasn't there, so I waited another ten minutes. He still hadn't come down, so I headed up the boys' staircase. I entered Harry's dorm and – Seamus Finnegan. With his shirt off.

"Oh, um... excuse me, but have you seen –"

"Yeah, Harry went down to lunch like twenty minutes ago," Seamus said. He seemed impervious to my blush at catching him at an awkward time. Why did I blush about _everything?_

"Right, well, thank you." I left the dorm, intending to go down to lunch to find Harry.

But he wasn't in the near empty Great Hall when I got down there, either. Where on earth was he? It wasn't like him to lie about where he was going. He knew I worried about him, and it was always a small reassurance to know where he was.

Sighing, I sat down at the table, attempting to eat. I vowed I would look for Harry after lunch if he didn't show up. I found it rather hard to eat, though. I wondered how it was possible to go from slap happy to depressed in such a short amount of time.

I spun my vegetable soup around with my spoon, so bemused I started when a large, unfamiliar barn owl landed by my plate. I looked around, wondering if he was looking for someone else. I never got mail unless it was from Errol.

But no. No one else sat near me, and then the owl stuck out his leg. It was a letter.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_I hear your name is Jenevra, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to address you as such. I hear your temper can be awful when called that. Jenny, is it?_

_Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering who the hell is writing you. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to reveal my identity for my own safety, should this letter be intercepted, along with your own._

The next line was crossed off sloppily, as though the letter was written in a hurry. I couldn't decipher it, although I stared at it for a good ten seconds.

_If you're sitting in the Great Hall, as I assume you probably are, you may want to go find a private place to read this. I suspect you won't want anyone to see your reaction to what I have to say next. Sorry if you read it already._

I stood from my lunch, which the bird was currently feasting on, and walked out of the Great Hall, sufficiently creeped out. I found a place, not too far from the Hall, in a small dip in the corridor. I leaned against the wall.

Taking a deep breath, I continued reading.

_I thought about what to write next for about five seconds before I decided it would be best to just be straightforward. I'm in a bit of a hurry, you see._

_I have your boyfriend. I suppose you could call it "kidnapping," but that term is such a crude one and not exactly true in this situation. He went without much of a fuss, as I suppose_

The rest of the sentence was crossed out.

_All I can say is I'm not going to harm him. Far from it, actually. I suspect you've been worried desperately about his deteriorating condition for the past few months. And, while I'd love to tell you how I know about that, I'm afraid I can't._

_Just know this: I'm going to help him. He came with me for you, actually. That's what he told me. He wanted me to write this letter because he knew you'd worry. He'd have written it himself, but he's rather indisposed as of the moment._

_You can show this letter to your Headmaster if you wish, but I doubt he'll be able to find either Harry or me, even with all his tracking skills._

_I'll return him to you the best I can, but what I'm doing is dangerous. He knows the consequences, and he had the choice not to come with me. I guess when he saw how I turned out, he thought he'd have a chance. And he does. Don't forget that._

_He sends his love._

The letter was unsigned.

I stood numbly, sure if I didn't have the wall behind me I would collapse. A mantra of Harry's name repeated over and over again in my head.

Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry.

_Harry._

"Harry!"

What the hell was I doing, standing around when he could still be near the castle? It was what, forty minutes ago that we were laughing together?

I pushed myself off the wall and, with a strength my legs didn't know they had, they ran. They ran out of the empty corridor, past the Great Hall, and out the front door.

"Ginny!"

But I ignored the gasp, sprinting down the Hogwarts lawn with a speed I was sure I never possessed.

I ran down past the lake and I almost reached the gates to Hogsmeade when a hand grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to stop. I fought desperately, so close to the gate. I could hop it, just like I did back at the beginning of the year with Colin and Vanessa and Nate and Carter...

I wouldn't even care if my robe tore again. I _had_ to get to Harry. I _had_ to. I'd go with him. He didn't have to go with that person all alone. I'd be there with him. I _needed_ to be there.

"Ginny, snap out of it, what's wrong?"

I valiantly fought against the hold, but it was impossible. The hold was too strong. Then, without warning, my struggles stopped, and it was like all my strength had sapped out of me all at once.

The adrenaline abandoned me, leaving my form tired and shaking.

"Ginny?" It was Ron. Behind him, Hermione and Neville ran down the grounds towards us. I hid my face in Ron's shoulder.

"Ginny, what's wrong? C'mon... tell me. I'm here to help." I couldn't take his soothing voice, the hands rubbing my back repetitively... soothing yet horrible as it reminded me endlessly of Harry's caring touch, yet so different. This wasn't Harry. It was my brother, and the difference was palpable. I twisted out of his arms.

"I'll get Harry," Hermione said. For the first time, I realized I was howling his name through the tears running down my cheeks.

I stumbled towards her, around my brother – "No!"

All three seventh years stared at me, unsure of what to do.

"You can't get him," I croaked. "Because he's gone."

"Oh, Gin...," Ron said, trying to soothe me once more. I could tell he was shocked with my words.

"No! He's not _dead!_" I snapped. "He's _gone!_"

"What?"

"Here!" I shoved the note at him, and he took it gingerly, glancing back up at me hesitantly before reading. Neville and Hermione gathered behind him, reading the letter over his shoulders.

I watched their faces turn from hesitantly curious to worried.

"He spelled your name wrong," Neville mentioned after a long silence.

"Or she," Hermione countered, glaring at the Boy Who Lived.

"We've got to show this to Dumbledore," Ron said.

I scoffed. "How the hell is he going to help? You saw the letter. They won't be found unless they want to."

"Still," Hermione reasoned, "he might see something in it that we don't."

I squeezed my eyes shut before opening them, my posture defiant. "Fine. But I'm going to find him, even if it kills me."

**A/N: **I know I should have updated ages ago, in August or September. Forgive me, almighty master, for I have sinned. It took me several tries (like forty) to get through this chapter. I was in a rut in my life, but I'm trying to get out of it. I _am_ going to finish this damn story, regardless of how shaky my updates are at the moment.


	18. Interlude II: Sirius's Point of View

**The Bent Boy**

**By ValorOrgulloso**

**Interlude II: Sirius's POV**

_I look up into the night sky  
And see a thousand eyes staring back  
And all around these golden beacons  
I see nothing but black_

I feel a way of something beyond them  
I don't see what I can feel  
If vision is the only validation  
Then most of my life isn't real

_Black and Gold _Sam Sparro

Dirt covered the measly scrap of a paper despite my best efforts to keep it clean. My attempts were clearly in vain, though, as I was filthy, and it would be a miracle to keep the words on the page decipherable for much longer. Just because I was used to the grime, though, didn't make me like it.

The article lay in the back of _The Daily Prophet_, obscure, and I wouldn't have even found it if I hadn't heard Ministry officials chatting about it. It was a short, brief paragraph about James Potter and his death. I looked at this article often. The prison guards – the human ones – threw it on the ground over a year ago, just outside my cell. They taunted me with it. They knew I was innocent. But I was a Black, despite everything, and I was to be treated as one. A Black outside the prison's walls was sure to flourish – they were Purebloods to the core, _Toujours Pur, _and, as such, they were respected by a considerable amount. All dark paraphernalia aside, my family never had it hard.

But, inside the cell – inside the four walls that seemed to get closer together with each passing day – I was scum. Evil, Pureblood, dirty, Black scum. I felt like scum, too. I let down Lily Potter by allowing Wormtail to be the Secret Keeper. For that, I was eternally regretful – eternally sorry – eternally in her debt. Problem was, I couldn't make up an eternal debt – especially to a dead woman. Or even James. Or poor Hary. Harry, who would never know his mother. Because of me.

I suppose festering away in Hell was deserved.

And James, too, was dead. The human guards rarely gave me my mail. They didn't like to come here much, really. The Dementors were too terrible to be around even for a few minutes – even for a few minutes of delivering a slip of paper. A precious slip of paper that was the only link to an outside life – a free life. Harry and James sent me mail. James mostly.

When James died, I stopped receiving letters for a short while – three months. I think Harry must have sent me a letter telling me about my best mate's passing because he sometimes referred to references I had not heard of before: I never had a clue what he was talking about. The guards must have thrown the letter out. They didn't like me much, like I said.

So, as I sat, covered in over a decade of excrement and sea dust, I read the newspaper for the millionth time.

_James Potter, 36, passed away Christmas Eve. It is reported he died of the Muggle disease kanser. He is the only Wizard who has ever had the disease on record_. _His funeral was held on December 29th as a private ceremony. He was a beloved Auror, friend, and father. He will be missed by many._

When I first read it, I could hardly believe it. Dead? I didn't even know he was dying! He never told me he had the disease in the first place. I thought, perhaps, there was another thirty-six year old James Potter roaming around England as an Auror. Anything but the truth. I was in denial over the article until three months after, when I received my first letter since the news.

James, I had thought. It had to be James. But it wasn't. It was his son. His son who told me horrible news about himself. He had cancer. He spoke of Pleurecrieds and his father. His father who had died of cancer, too.

That's when I finally accepted the fact that James was dead. He wasn't coming back.

I had failed Lily. I had failed James. And, if Harry's disease took the same course as James's, I'd fail him too.

That wasn't going to happen.

I clutched a letter in my hand, cleaner than the article; I received it quite recently. It had a triangle embedded on the wax seal, and it told me my answers. I didn't know the person that sent it, but it was the answer to redemption. My atonement lay within the folds of the paper.

So Harry sent me letters, and I scrawled my own messages in return on pieces of paper he sent me to write on. I didn't tell him of my plan – my plan was secret. He couldn't know. No false hope – I'd been given enough of that all my life, and I wasn't going to instill it onto my godchild.

Mustering up energy I didn't know I possessed, I practiced. I was rusty, and it was hard to do it under the Dementor's discretion, but I managed. I began to eat all of my gruel, however disgusting it was, despite having not eaten it much in the past. I was desperately thin, and I knew that had to change if I was going to go though with my plan.

Taking a pile of damp dirt and dust that had accumulated over the years, I shaped it into the form of a human. Me.

I transformed. I picked up the unknown-sender letter in my mouth after I transformed into a black dog and I slipped through the bars. I left Azkaban prison with no one the wiser. I was going to help my godson.

Fortunately, I didn't have to venture the chilling waters of the North Sea for too long, as a small row boat was near the prison. Generally, it took the convicted to the prison. I knew this because it's how I was brought to Azkaban. But this rowboat was returning. I jumped in it, and it was surprisingly empty. But, looking back, I couldn't recall Ministry guards ever returning in the row boats to mainland. They must to have had another way to travel.

I lay in the tiny boat, magically moving and with me, a lone stray, toughing the rough winter-chilled waves.

The farther from Azkaban I got, though, the less the waves rocked me. The lighter the sky became. The warmer I felt. I don't mean physically warm because, quite frankly, I was freezing. No, mentally. The Dementors were no longer trying to steal my minute happiness. My sanity.

It was freeing.

I was free.

Maybe not legally, but I was away from Hell, and it was a feeling I thought I'd never feel again. It was relief like no other. I reached the shore, and the banks were frosty.

I left the boat behind me, uncaring of what happened to it, and looked for a place to stay warm.

A kind old couple housed me for a night – giving me leftover meat and a pat on the head. I hid my letter in the garden between two rocks so nothing could bother it. I got warm. I woke up early and ransacked food. I felt slightly guilty, as the couple were nothing but hospitable to a mangy stray, but I had a job to do. I tied the bag of food to my neck with a sturdy rope and transformed back into my form, Padfoot.

I was off. I hopped on the back of a truck or four. A few days after that, I reached Hogwarts.

I found my godson.

_A/N: I really wanted to use the song _Rainy Day Women #12 & 35_ by Bob Dylan because of the line "everybody must get stoned" and its excessive use of "stoned" talk, but it didn't really feel appropriate for the story._

_Also, check out my new LiveJournal! I love new friends on it, and you can learn a lot of dumb facts about my life from it. Meet the author, anyone? Look at my profile page for the link!_

_Review, darlings._


	19. Arrogance

**The Bent Boy**

**By ValorOrgulloso**

**Arrogance**

_You were the fighter  
I was the kid against the world  
I heard there's nothing gonna hold you down  
I'll use a lighter so you can see what isn't there  
We'll swing at air  
Swinging off eventually you're bound  
Bound to the ground_

_Dear Jack_ Jack's Mannequin

"I see."

This was exactly why I didn't want to go to Dumbledore – he clearly wouldn't help. After all, he did let his student get kidnapped. So, as the old headmaster sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled against one another, all he could say was _I see_?

"You know," I said, shaking my head in annoyance, "I knew you wouldn't help. I'll be going now. I actually _care _enough about the well-being of Harry in order to help him."

"Ginny–"

"You _can't_–"

Ron and Hermione spoke as I turned to leave the office. I ignored them, fully intent on leaving to find Harry _on my own_.

Only thing, the door wouldn't open. I turned the knob only to find it wouldn't budge.

I turned angrily around, glaring at Dumbledore. "Let me out," I demanded.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to hear me out, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore.

"I don't _want_ to hear you out."

Hermione gasped at my audacity.

Dumbledore sighed and looked tired. I resented him even more. "Do you really think you're helping Harry by trying to find him, Ginevra?" he asked. I was about to yell at him for using my real name, but his words made me pause.

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly Harry knows the person – there was no struggle, as the letter states. He went willingly."

I was instantly suspicious. "What do you know?"

Dumbledore looked down for a moment before looking up at me. Ron, Hermione, and Neville looked on in interest.

"Harry was taken, I know. I knew it was going to happen. I just didn't know _when_."

I forced down my rage, even though I felt like screaming; however, raging at Dumbledore wouldn't get me the precious answers I needed.

Instead, my voice dropped to a near whisper. "Who took him?"

Dumbledore hesitated, and the silence only fueled me further.

"Who _took him?_" I repeated. I was nearing desperation, and the tears I had finally reared in threatened to appear once more.

"I'm not sure it would be... wise to disclose that information with you, Miss Weasley."

I approached the desk until I could lean over it. Adrenaline rushed through me recklessly. "_Look_," I began through clenched teeth, "my _boyfriend_ is missing, and I am going _insane_ with worry. Now, tell me_ where _he is and _who_ took him, or I am going to find him myself."

If Dumbledore was insulted by my arrogance, which was only a product of my fragile mental state, he didn't let it show. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, as if to avoid my person. If I wasn't so upset, I probably would have been embarrassed by my behavior.

Sighing once more, Dumbledore glanced over at a horrified Hermione, a confused Ron, and a nervous Neville.

"Alright, Miss Weasley, I'll tell you. Your brother, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger, too, I suppose," Dumbledore finally acquiesced. He gestured towards a series of chairs that appeared in front of his desk. "Sit." It wasn't a request.

Cooling down a bit since Dumbledore agreed to tell me, I sat.

"Who took Harry?" I asked.

Dumbledore paused clicking his long fingers against his desk. "His godfather."

" But he's in prison."

"Who?" Hermione asked at the same time Neville said "In _prison_?"

I glanced at them. "Sirius Black," I said.

"Sir – the guy who betrayed the Potters?" asked Ron.

I rolled my eyes, nearly over my shock. "He's completely innocent, but that's beside the point," I said, turning back to Dumbledore. "What I want to know is how he escaped."

"I suppose this would easiest if I explained from the beginning," Dumbledore said. He folded his hands in his lap before starting. "Almost a year ago, Harry was diagnosed with leukemia. It wasn't completely unexpected, as his father had gotten it after his Pleurecried encounter, but... well, I had hoped Harry was lucky and untouched by the Pleurecrieds. Unfortunately, the curse on him took only slightly longer than his father to show signs. Harry, since his father died, has been my responsibility. No, not legally, as his relatives have that privilege, but as his parental. I'm here to make sure he's safe.

"So, naturally, after his diagnosis, I gave Harry a few choices at the end of last year. You see, Pleurecried curses are very difficult to break. I offered to let him go off on his own to experience what time he had left however he wished, go to St. Mungo's and seek out expert Healers to try and help him, or return to Hogwarts and fight the disease the, mostly, Muggle way with Madam Pomfrey.

"Harry chose the last choice, obviously. He said he wanted to be around a familiar place if he didn't make it, and he knew the Healers weren't likely to cure him. He thought that the Muggle way was his best shot. I agreed. But then he just kept getting worse. His condition kept deteriorating, and I knew we had to think of another alternative.

"My first intention was to send him to St. Mungo's to see if they could prolong his life or cure him. But then I got a letter. From your brother, actually, Ginevra, Ronald." He inclined his head to each of us as he addressed our names.

"William Weasley told me that he was searching for a cure for Harry's curse, and he said he thought he was getting closer to a solution. He met Harry at your house over Christmas, I presume?" I nodded.

"Well, William told me how he wanted Harry to come visit him in Egypt, so he could be analyzed for the curse. He was asking permission for Harry to leave the school grounds for an extended period of time. I was going to grant it, but–"

"But?" I prompted.

"Sirius Black. I thought about it long and hard before sending Sirius Black a letter to explain what had to be done. I've known Sirius to be innocent for a long time. This was my chance to prove to the Ministry, however corrupt, that Sirius was not guilty of the heinous crime he was accused of. If he helped Harry, it would show that he was not guilty of the indirect death of Lily.

"In the letter, I told him of how his innocence could be proved. Sirius Black is a dog Animagus. By luck of inspiration, perhaps, I realized what being an Animagus meant. Dementors are not wired to sense animal souls. That, along with the slim build of a dog, prompted me to remind Sirius that it wouldn't be too hard to slip through the bars.

"Sirius escaped prison, I assume, quite recently, and then came here. Harry went willingly with him, as he is his godfather. He trusts him.

"Sirius and Harry are now well on their way to Egypt, where your brother and other Curse Breakers are awaiting the pair. They plan on breaking Harry's curse. So, you see, by stopping Harry, you could inevitably be stopping his recovery."

There was a long moment in which I processed all the man said. Dumbledore had a fair point; I didn't want to stop Harry from getting help if it could potentially cure him. I desperately needed him to recover, and, after the night before, I realized a life without him probably wasn't much of a life at all.

I could already see it – I imagined the horrors of it enough – a coffin being lowered into the ground. And, as the soil trickled over the gaunt patch in the ground, my heart would be buried. My soul, ripped from me like a Dementor would.

I'd be an empty shell. An empty shell without my Harry.

So, with the horrific echo of my imagination coursing through my body, I met Dumbledore's eyes. The sorrow in his eyes reflected mine.

"Please. Please, tell me he'll be okay."

---

Days began to blur together. I went through the motions. My food was tasteless, and so was my mind. I felt completely useless, sitting at Hogwarts as though nothing was wrong.

Yes, I was glad Harry was going to Bill for a cure, but...

And there was the but... the selfish word I couldn't help saying whenever I thought about Harry.

But I missed him. But I needed him. But I wanted to see his face. I wanted to be the one to make him better – to know, for one moment, that I relieved his pain.

I knew, though, that I was being irrational.

And that's what kept me sane. I believed in Bill – he was the brightest of all of us Weasleys. I believed in Sirius to get Harry to Egypt safely. I believed in Harry's determination to get better.

But, sometimes, it was hard to keep up that mindset. I would go into moods that I was unable to pull out of – moods that only Harry could pull me out of, but he wasn't here to do that. He wasn't here to protect me. I would think about what could go wrong – what, quite possibly, could happen.

I could lose him.

So Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Carter kept an eye on me. They always made sure I wasn't alone, as if I was going to do something reckless if they left me alone for one second. I'm not sure their worries were unfounded.

It wasn't until Carter and I were sitting in the library together when I felt something than a wave of sorrow and worry.

"You should write him a letter," Carter suggested.

"A letter?" I asked.

Carter nodded. "Yeah, I mean... you've been so empty lately... I can tell you miss him. You have giant circles under your eyes. Just send him a letter. It'll make you feel better."

I sighed, slumped shoulders raising slightly. Writing Harry a letter _did_ sound like an attractive idea.

"You know what?" I said. "I think I will. He can tell me all the progress he's making. He'll be better soon." I nodded, sure of my plan.

So I wrote him a letter, full of questions and hopes. I made sure to keep it light – Harry didn't need any added stress if he was going to make a full recovery.

"Feel better?" Carter asked once I sent the letter off.

"Yeah," I said. I gave a small smile. "I do." And I did because, although I was terribly worried, news of Harry's recovery would soon be underway.

**A/N: OpenOffice is an idiot. _Steepled,_ apparently, isn't a word. I miss my Microsoft Word and its beautiful ways :( But, alas, my computer crashed last October, and I lost every bit of info on it. Also, sorry for the long Dumbledore-speech crap. I hate long dialogue scenes like that, but it had to be done.**

**And, rerember, a reriew is rove.**


	20. Acting

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Acting**

_I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map_

_And knew that somehow I could find my way back_

_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too_

_So I stayed in the darkness with you._

_Cosmic Love_ Florence + the Machine

My footsteps pattered against the stone as I paced back and forth in an empty classroom. Carter and Hermione were with me, as they wanted to study, and Ron and Neville were flying.

Unconsciously, my hands wound around one another. I couldn't keep still.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked.

I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat.

"Why are you pacing?"

I sighed, stopping to rest against a desk. "Harry hasn't written back yet."

"It's been two days," said Carter.

"I know!" I exclaimed.

Hermione let out a small snort. I glared at her, then started pacing again.

"Merlin, Ginny, relax. You're giving me a headache," Carter complained. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he leaned over his Transfiguration book resting on a desk.

I ignored him. "But why hasn't he responded? Something _must_ have happened to him."

"Or maybe," Hermione said, "he doesn't have access to a writing utensil."

"Why wouldn't he?"

Hermione shrugged, tucking a quill behind her ear as she adjusted a reference book on her leg. "A plethora of reasons. Egypt is a long ways away, first of all. And, while owls are known for promptness, even they have to rest once in a while. Or maybe Harry is being looked at by curse breakers and is incapacitated as of now."

I looked at her fretfully. She rolled her eyes. "Calm down. I'm sure he's just busy."

"Busy with _what?_ It's the curse breakers that should be _busy_."

Hermione didn't respond for a minute, seemingly engrossed in her text.

I huffed.

Carter sighed. "Look, I understand you're anxious. I understand you're worried. But," he offered, "why don't you spend your time doing something instead of walking a hole in the ground? Time will pass by quicker."

"Well, aren't you just full of ideas," I snapped. A moment later, I was regretful. "I'm sorry, Carter – Hermione. I don't mean to be harsh. I'm just – just scared, I guess."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said, standing up and putting her book down. She came over to wrap me in a brief hug. "Everything will work out for the best."

I smiled slightly. "That's what I'm trying to believe, but I feel so useless, sitting around here waiting for a miracle to happen."

"That's why I suggested you do something," Carter said.

"But what? I can't leave the school anymore. And I certainly have no idea how to help Harry from all the way here in Scotland."

Hermione patted my hand sympathetically. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

She grinned hopelessly at me.

---

It wasn't until a week later that a thought hit me.

I remembered the first time I was alone with Harry. During the first community service project, we were in the greenhouses. We were cutting plants and potting them. Harry gave me his gloves even though he needed them just as bad as me, and, right before I noticed his galled palms, we conversed lightly. Well, him more than me. I wasn't the friendliest.

Such an insignificant detail at the time, it seemed. I didn't understand what he meant when he said he couldn't use the plant. It took years of preparation before the user could correct vision. _Flora Pupilasis_.

Carter told me to do something useful, and, for the past week I had done the opposite of that.

Determined to change, I headed to the library.

---

"You need _what?_" Hermione asked me.

"Unicorn horn powder," I repeated.

"Do you have _any_ idea how rare that is? It'll cost a fortune."

I rolled my eyes. "Hence the reason I'm coming to _you_. Ron's always going on about how you know obscure facts – like how to acquire unicorn horn powder, for instance."

Hermione flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, Hermione? I'll let you help as long as you keep it a secret. I'm not above begging."

"Well. . . "

"You told me to do something – now I'm actually _going to_."

Hermione looked at what I knew was a desperate face. She sighed. "Okay, here's where you can get it . . . "

---

Over the next week, we worked diligently. We used Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (Hermione's idea) to brew the potion. I was glad I scouted out Hermione to help, or else I'd be hopeless. It was, quite possibly, the most technical potion I'd ever seen. Snape would be proud – or as proud as he could be without actually coming out and _showing_ it.

The unicorn horn powder, as Hermione predicted, almost emptied my savings, and, if the girl hadn't pitched in as well, it surely would have.

It was one crisp afternoon when a tawny barn owl swooped through the bathroom window and nearly dropped a letter into the steaming cauldron. I caught it just in time.

I squealed in delight.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, who had not seen the letter as she was immersed in the book's instructions.

"Harry sent a letter!" I eagerly sat down against the wall, ripping open the letter.

I grinned as I read it, but it slowly faded. It was vague and foreboding.

_The curse breakers have many methods of undoing enchantments, _Harry wrote. _They have been experimenting on mine as well as can be expected. _I frowned, looking for more details.

However, most of the letter's contents focused on trivial things. Things one would expect to receive in a letter from their partner: _I miss you._ _I wish you were here with me._ _I love you_.

Yet he barely touched on the gritty details I craved to read. I wanted reassurance, but Harry wasn't giving me much.

Still, his letter warmed in a way I hadn't felt since before he left with Sirius.

Hermione noticed my faded expression. "Bad news?" she guessed.

I shook my head, staring blankly at the letter.

"Then what is it?"

I inhaled deeply, handing her the letter.

She quickly read it. She grinned up at me in confusion. "He's very sweet."

I nodded, staring at my sneakers. "That he is," I agreed.

"But something's wrong," she said.

I shrugged. "Just. . . I want to _know_, yeah? If there's progress. And it doesn't seem like there's any."

Hermione looked like she was about to comfort me, but I wasn't in the mood for it. I stood up, walking up to the book with the potion in it and reading through it.

"When do we stir next?" I asked.

"In seventeen minutes, then we let it sit for another month before we stir it again."

I grinned at her briefly, so much as to reassure her as myself. "Harry will love it," I said.

She nodded sadly. "He will."

---

Sometimes at night I couldn't sleep. Thoughts raced through my mind at a criminal pace, and they went places I didn't want them to go.

I thought about death a lot. I'm not going to lie, the thought scared me endlessly. Where would I be? Endless darkness for eternity? It seemed a cruel fate for humans to endure. When I pictured myself in blackness, my heart felt like it collapsed in on itself.

But then I would reassure myself: that wouldn't be for a long time.

But for Harry. For Harry, it was a very real prospect. And that prospect made me just as scared.

Those nights I would muffle my head in my pillow, trying to block it all out and think of happier things, but I was helpless to it. Blackness was all around me, and thinking of an endless despair was easy.

I was happy when nights like those ended.

---

More days passed, and Hermione and I regularly checked the potion. We had to trade off checking, or else Carter, Ron, and Neville would get suspicious.

I suppose it wouldn't be a big deal if they found out about it, but it just seemed like another thing to count on. I didn't want them to have to deal with the significance of the potion if Harry were to. . .

So, for the most part, I kept to myself. And, while my friends and brother always kept me company, I didn't speak often. There was an underlying panic starting to set in. It was late March already.

Harry and I regularly corresponded, and his letters never gave much away. I tried to goad details out of him, but it was hopeless. He didn't want to give false hope, as he wrote in one of the letters.

I also sent letters to Bill, but he was, if anything, less helpful than Harry – he wanted to "protect me."

It wasn't until early April that I heard big news.

"Harry's coming back!" Ron nearly yelled as he ran down the hallway towards me. He panted heavily, hands on his knees.

"What? When?" I asked, buzzing with energy I didn't have moments before.

"T – today," panted Ron. "Dumbledore just told me. He'll be in the Hospital Wing."

I smiled. He was here! That must mean he's getting better! "Thanks, Ron!" In a moment of excitement, I kissed my brother on the cheek before sprinting away.

I waited outside of the Hospital Wing for hours. There was yet to be a sign of Harry. Carter had dropped by and given me food for dinner as I wouldn't go to the Great Hall for fear of missing Harry arriving.

I was just dozing off against the jagged wall when I heard voices. Their words were muffled.

I stood up, no longer tired. My stomach squirmed as I pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing. It was late, and there was little candlelight in the infirmary. I could make out a few shapes, though: Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Bill, Sirius Black, and – "Harry."

He was lying in a bed near the middle of the wing. I couldn't see his face clearly, but he smiled. I rushed over, embracing him hastily. His arms weakly came up to return the hug. "I missed you," I whispered in his ear.

Kissing his cheek as I pulled back, I saw his face clearly for the first time. It was horrible.

He seemed, if possible, even skinnier than the last time I'd seen him. His face was translucently pale. His eyes were tired and red.

His smile never faded, though: it was just as strong as the day I met him in Dumbledore's office.

"Hey, Ginny," he said.

**A/N: I was bored today, and I felt unusually inspired, so I decided to write. Also, I'm still figuring out the technical aspects of nit-picky grammar, but I think I'm getting it down. Visit my profile to take a lame poll. And review, loves :)**


	21. Perseverance

**The Bent Boy **

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Perseverance**

_Tin Soldiers_

_And Nixon coming_

_We're finally on our own_

_This summer I hear the drumming_

_Four dead in Ohio_

_Ohio _Neil Young

Words faltered as I looked at Harry.

He looked faded, like an old pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Or one of my hand-me-down sweaters from my brothers. I wondered if he felt it, too.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid–"

"No."

My voice rang after I cut him off. I saw the group's regretful eyes on me. I looked down then.

"Ginny," Black said, "he's still sick."

I shook my head, rather interested in the ground. The area on the floor I stared at was creased, as though many visitors stood where I did now, awaiting news of friends or family. But, although proof remained of the worry, I couldn't connect to the past. I couldn't even connect to the present.

Words blurred around in the air, and I closed my eyes, willing the sound out.

It was one soft touch that brought me back, although I didn't want to be brought back ever.

Harry's hand held mine weakly. The grasp was such a smaller one than that that seemed to clutch at my heart.

"I am," said Harry. "I am _very_ sick, Ginny." The hand around my heart clenched tighter, its furrowed hold unreal. Somehow, I found my voice.

"But what about–about the curse breakers?" I asked. "What–what about–"

Harry squeezed my hand. "It didn't work. They tried their best, but it was futile. I have a few weeks at best."

I let go of his hand, stepping backwards.

I managed to collapse into a chair, my head falling into my hands.

"Could you give us a moment?" I heard Harry ask. "Please." Rustling occurred around me, and then there was only breathing.

"Ginny," Harry said, "will you just look at me?"

Releasing a shuddering sigh, I looked up at Harry's tired face. "I love you," he said. "Don't ever forget that. You're stronger than you think you are. After I'm gone–"

"You're not going _anywhere_. We're going to find out how to break this curse, and then you'll graduate Hogwarts and become whatever the hell you want to be and take that damn _Flora Pupilasis_ potion and marry me and _live_ because–"

"Ginny," whispered Harry. So frail, so perfect. "Love, stop. For once, just let me be selfish. Let me choose. Let me believe what I want to believe. Even if what I choose to believe is that death is for the best."

"If anything, that is the one thing you _don't_ have a choice in."

"Then at least give me the peace of knowing I've accepted it."

"Well, I haven't." I looked away from his now half-sitting form. "I'm not accepting it. Not ever."

Harry sighed like iron. "Then you're condemning yourself to a life to misery. And I can't bear the thought of that."

Despair gnawed at me cruelly. I held water with my hands. "There has to be _something_." But even the water in the center of the palm had to leave at some point.

"There isn't," Harry whispered. "There isn't anything that will cure me. It's permanent. No Muggle or Wizard treatment has so much as dented my progress–only made it easier to bear."

I sighed, trying not to let the situation drown me. Instead, I leaned over and kissed Harry's palm, rubbing with my thumb softly as Harry's voice. He let out a breath, and he fell back against the pillow.

We stayed there, in the Hospital Wing, silent, until the dust settled around us. The sun had long-faded, and when I next glanced over, Harry was asleep. Gently, so as not to disturb him, I grasped a delicate hand in my own. I brushed the hair out of his eyes.

Struck by an idea, I released Harry's hand and opened the drawer in his side table. Just as I expected, scissors lay next to a roll of bandages. Pomfrey always kept spare supplies around in case there was no time to fetch them.

I picked up the scissors gingerly, weighing them in my hand. Heart beating fast, I kneeled at Harry's bedside, leaned over, and snipped a lock of his hair off. Standing, I went back to the drawer. A small vial. I placed the lock of hair in the vial, and sealed the cork.

Taking out my wand, I conjured a string and tied it around the neck of the vial. My hands shook as I tied the string around my neck. Placing a notice-me-not charm on the impromptu-necklace, I leaned over and kissed Harry's forehead.

Then I left the Hospital Wing without a word.

"How is he?" Hermione asked. We were whispering in the library. Hermione was studying for her NEWTs, and I was researching. What, I wasn't quite sure: all I knew was that it had to be a solution.

"Not well. He reckons a few weeks at best," I said.

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. I waved my hand flippantly at her gasp. It took more effort than I expected.

"I'm going to find a solution."

Hermione looked at me disbelievingly but also like she was trying to find a kind way to let me down. "Ginny . . .," she began. "You're just going to have to accept that–"

I stopped her with a stare. "If you're going to be nothing but pessimistic–and euphemistic, mind–I don't want a part in it. Now shoo." I returned to my book with an air of finality.

Hermione didn't move. I risked a glance in her direction: she was looking back. I chanced a grin at her. She just rolled her eyes and asked, "How can I help?"

The library and the Hospital Wing quickly became my new homes. Frustration and hopelessness sawed at my every nerve increasingly more as the days passed. I grew more frantic with each hour. But I never gave up: not once. Not even when I borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak to sneak into the restricted section late at night, only to have Filch on my tail within thirty minutes of entering; I wasn't able to return until the next night when he wasn't patrolling the area.

It was Neville, actually, who put an end to part of my anxiety.

Hermione and I were in the library, per usual, pouring over book after book. My eyes felt ready to pop out of my head and walk away like a pair of offended Pygmy Puffs.

And, just when I was sure they would do just that, Ron, Neville, and Carter sauntered in. I hadn't seen any of them much, what with crazing over finding a solution to Harry's situation with Hermione.

"Hey, Ginny," Ron said. Neville and Carter nodded towards me and didn't look me in the eye. They seemed hesitant as if I were going to explode at any second. I nearly glared. I was fine despite my morose disposition. "Neville thinks he's found something."

My heart dropped. So maybe I was about to explode. "What is it?" I demanded.

"Well," said Neville, "I found, um, a plant while I was looking through my_ Advanced Herbology: Magical Eukaryotic Cell Development and Reproduction _book, and, uh, I think it may have some merit to, um, Harry's, er, condition."

"Let me see," I said. "Do you have the book? What does the plant do?"

Neville pulled an _enormous_ book out of his book bag. He handed it to me. "Page four-hundred-sixty-four," he recited.

I flipped to the page to see a plant with purple leaves and a black stem. On it lay a white flower. Neville leaned over my shoulder and pointed at the picture.

"The plant has properties where it halts cell division through enzymes it produces. I'm sure if we could pinpoint those proteins that direct the enzymes, we could get them to halt Harry's cell division of white blood cells in his bone marrow to a normal rate. If that were to happen, healthy blood cells could be produced, and perhaps then the unhealthy ones flowing through him could be killed through Muggle chemotherapy or a magical potion gradually. Therefore, vanishing the cancer from his body."

I looked up at Neville, and I knew my face must have looked dementedly adoring and confused. "I have no idea what half of what you just said means, but if you think he should take this plant, then I say let him take it. Let's go now."

I made to stand up and leave, but Carter pushed me back down. "There's, uh, one more thing," Ron said.

"The plant _could _potentially stop the wrong cells from dividing if we don't mutate the plant's genes right," Neville said. "I _think_ I know how to fix the plant to stop the cancer cells, but it's going to take a potion, and you know how terrible I am at potions."

"What potion?"

"_Mutatio Historia_."

"Let's make it, then," said Hermione. "We can do it. I know _I _am good at potions no matter what Snape says, and Harry's going to win this disease if I have anything to say about it. Do you still have Harry's invisibility cloak, Ginny?" I nodded. "Good because we're going to need it if we're going to get the ingredients we need from Snape's closet."

I always liked Hermione.

**A/N: I'M STILL HERE. Meow holla' at yo' frynd (me) in a ****review****.**

**Slow clap. I have been INSANE busy for months on end. Work applications work school band work car school colleges work school biology work colleges school biology band. School.**


	22. Bravery

**The Bent Boy**

**By ValorOrgulloso**

**Bravery**

_When the night has come  
And the land is dark  
And the moon is the only light we'll see  
No, I won't be afraid, no, I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

_Stand By Me_ Ben E. King

"Where are you taking us?" Hermione asked as we walked down an obscure hallway.

"You'll see," I said.

"I don't see why we couldn't use Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." I ignored her and kept leading her, Ron, Neville, and Carter.

We reached the door. And, yes, _the_ door: the one that led to my, and later Harry's, secret getaway. The one that hid a room I spent some lonely hours in while Harry was gone, pining over past memories. It was where I had given myself willingly over to Harry, and him me. The room was the last place I had been able to truly pour my affection out in physical form, in an effort to quell the desperation I felt, and still feel, sneaking up on me all hours of the day, like a fire's smoke.

And it was the only place where we had laid ourselves bare and been honest in extremity; there had been no facades that night. There was as much pain as delirious happiness in those few hours we'd been together; with every pleasured touch or wobbling caress, we were reverent and raw. I thought of that holy night while my dorm mates were asleep, under the safety of darkness. Those were the moments I'd fantasized repeatedly until my head was spinning, and I'd be glad for my bed to keep me grounded during those episodes; they made me dizzy with longing.

No. I wouldn't tell them why I chose this location in full: to do so would be too private, not to mention the fact that my brother would likely react rather erratically.

I would tell a half-truth.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned. "This is our place," I said quietly. My group and I entered the Gryffindor-esque room. The couch and furnishings were placed in the precise order they always were. I looked upon the couch where I lost my virginity. It sat innocently in the light coming from the lone window. The fireplace did not ignite; it only did so at night.

Carter, who carried the invisible cauldron with ingredients within, placed it near the fireplace. "Your place?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, now running my hand along the spine of the lovely couch. "Harry's. Mine. Ours." My eyes closed.

Ron muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. I chose to not notice. I heard the contents being removed from the cauldron now. I unclosed my eyes and saw Hermione and Neville getting to work.

It was decided that those two would do the brunt of the work. Hermione was the best at potions, and Neville knew the most about the plant enzymes.

There wasn't much Ron, Carter, or I could do but stand back and watch. I collapsed onto the couch, spent with worry. Carter did the same, but Ron chose to stand back. I looked up at him.

"I'm certainly not sitting on _that_ couch, where you did Merlin knows what," Ron explained.

I tiredly laughed. "I suppose you're right," I said, too drained to care that my brother suspected of illicit activities occurring on the couch. I was too drained to deny it either.

Ron's nose scrunched up. "That was the part where you were supposed to say, 'No, Ron, of course nothing happened on this normal, clean couch.'"

"Harry's got me out of the habit of lying."

Ron's face turned bright red. "I think you should stop," Neville chuckled from the floor, opening up a jar with a suspicious looking specimen floating in blue gel. "Ron's face is going to explode with mortification."

"Oi! Shut up, Nev," griped Ron. Everyone laughed, but I didn't have the usual enthusiasm.

Suddenly, I felt wrong. The world felt wrong. Everything seemed so normal, yet the opposite was true. I stood up, knowing where I was needed, guilt pounding through me.

"I'm going to the Hospital Wing," I announced. I hadn't seen Harry all day, too busy securing the ingredients necessary for the _Mutatio Historia _potion. True, he was probably laying in a deep sleep, but that didn't mean he didn't wish for someone to be by his side the rare times he woke. He slept almost constantly now, and my heart ached and my mind went fuzzy if I thought about that fact too long. I also missed him terribly; a hole in my chest seemed to appear whenever I was without him. He was a part of me.

"I'll go with," Carter said.

"No, that's fine," I said. I felt cruel, but I really just wanted Harry to myself; I loved Carter dearly, but I wanted to be able to be with Harry and cuddle close to his side and tell him everything. I placed my hand on my chest where I kept the vial of his black lock hidden.

"I insist." He began to stand up.

"Carter," I began, "I really just need to be with Harry right now." At Carter's confused expression I added, "Alone."

"Oh," he said, trying to cover up his hurt at my rejection.

I couldn't deal with him then, though. I turned to leave. "See you guys at dinner." And I left the room that could save Harry's life.

In the Hospital Wing, I pushed on the brass handle to enter. No one else was in the room, nay for a curtain erected around a lone bed: the bed in which Harry now spent nearly all of his time. I quietly approached, pushing aside the starchy fabric and sinking into the cushioned armchair permanently placed beside my lover's bed.

Harry lay on his side, facing me. His face lay in a sleepy frown, pale and babe-like. His smooth brow arched down slightly, troubled. He had a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and upper lip.

Sighing, I stood and grabbed the damp washcloth that lay nearby in a bucket. It was cool, and I began to soothingly dab at Harry's face, washing away the evidence of his illness the most I could. Which was, to say, very little.

He stirred, and I immediately put the washcloth back into the bin. My intention was to help, not to distress, Harry. He was so fragile.

Then his huge eyes fluttered open, immediately finding my face like a magnet. I kneeled down beside the bed, putting on a brave half-smile. It was even real. It was always real when I was with Harry, even with all the pain his illness caused my mind to induce.

"Sweetie," I nearly whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead, thumb brushing over his still-red scar. "You need anything?"

Harry closed his eyes, leaning into my soft strokes. "Mmm, water?"

I nodded. "Sure. One second." I grabbed the pitcher on the bedside table and poured him a glass. I set the glass down to help Harry prop up on his pillows with some effort. I helped him drink the glass down, helping him hold it because his hands were so shaky. My heart beat very fast. The potion would be done in mere hours: it was a short make, fortunately. But I knew what his shaking meant.

April was almost halfway done, and the doctors had told Harry he had until May or June at best. He would die soon if nothing could be figured out for his condition.

He spilled some of the water, and I quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe it away as it dribbled down his bony chin.

When he was finished with the water, I set the glass on the side table and immediately went back to tending to Harry. I couldn't help but dote on him constantly. He was so precious, and a panicked mantra would often pick up within my mind of him not being here to dote on much longer. I could only hope Neville's idea pulled through, however desperate it may be. The mere though of losing Harry was almost too much to stand.

"Ginny?" Harry's weak, wispy voice whispered as I lazily stroked his temple.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you more," I said, smiling as I looked into his eyes; his never-changing eyes. They were the only part of him now that seemed to be his old self.

"You can't," he argued. "The moon is how much I love you."

"And why do you love me?" I asked, smiling softly.

Harry sighed before speaking in his angelic voice. "You're witty; you tell me when I'm being stupid; you're caring; you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You're the reason I wake up every morning. You're my best friend." Harry smiled up at me. "That's why I love you."

I rested my forehead against his. "Ditto." And he closed his eyes, so I did too. I sat like that until Harry fell asleep.

Sitting up, I glanced outside. The sun had just set, and moon rays shone through the glass windows. I traced my eyes to the figure they slept upon: my hero.

I sat in a peaceful, grieving silence. I cried a little, and it wasn't until Madam Pomfrey routinely appeared that I got up. She gently sent me away, now used to me staying up with Harry until she came out to check on him. I pecked him on his forehead before exiting the Hospital Wing.

I went to dinner dutifully and sat next to Carter. I didn't say anything, and my red eyes spoke for me. He put an arm around me and I sank into his side, ignoring the stares around me. When I shut my eyes I could almost pretend he was Harry; yet, his side wasn't as bony, and his smell was all off, and he didn't grip me as carefully as Harry did.

Still, I pretended for a few minutes before sitting up and eating my dinner. After all, Harry wanted me to eat, so I would eat, even if everything tasted like wet cardboard.

"The potion will be done by morning," Neville said briskly, almost cheerfully. All four of them had been trying to keep my spirits up, but it barely worked. Still, I appreciated their efforts.

"We successfully manipulated the enzymes to get the blood cells to stop dividing rapidly. All it needs to do is sit, and we can give it to Harry," added Hermione.

"Good," I said. I shuddered slightly. "Because he's getting there."

"Oh, Gin," Hermione whispered.

I shrugged, trying to stay apathetic at the dinner table. All the students weren't told about Harry's absence. Harry wished his illness to remain private, so only speculations remained as to why I was sitting in the Great Hall without him. Most thought he had just dropped out. After all, a "weirdo" with no friends certainly couldn't succeed. The thought made me so angry, though, that I had to take deep breaths to calm myself when I heard the rumors.

And I had heard them in the past months all through the hallways. Yet no one straight out asked me where my boyfriend went. It seemed they were all too afraid or just didn't care enough: probably the latter.

But I had to be strong for Harry, so I held my head up and got through each day. I put on a brave face and pushed through. But times, such as now, I tore.

"Let's hope against hope this potion works," I said.

The others looked at me grimly, but there was no other way to be.

**A/N: I wanted to work on **_**A Better Version of Me**_** (my lovely Harry/Teddy fiction), but I knew I wasn't going to get any feedback because no one reads that story, so I decided to write this chapter instead, as I've actually felt rather inspired and excited about finishing it. I didn't only write this chapter for some tender loving—GOT to have all your lovin'; baaaaby, I neeeed your lovin'! And that's it for the Four Tops and me. Thank you: no encores will be given.**


	23. Awareness

The Bent Boy

by ValorOrgulloso

Awareness

_Her lips were waitin'  
Her eyes looked sad  
The dreams of a lifetime  
A year gone bad_

_I Know I'm Not Wrong _Fleetwood Mac

Finished. The potion was finished. The _Mutatio Historia_ potion was finished. Hermione had just gone to ladle it up and bring it to Harry. I was standing outside of the Hospital Wing, in a silent debate. Should I tell Harry about the potion or secretly give it to him?

I felt as though the former could bring to him a false sense of hope: I wanted to give him that hope, but even I could see Harry was resigned to his fate. It could be a certain mental torture to have salvation so close only to see it slip should the potion fail. The latter option I felt much more comfortable with. Harry wouldn't know, and if there was an improvement in his condition I could admit to my involvement and all would be well and celebratory.

I entered the doors. Harry was being fork-fed by Madam Pomfrey: or, at least, it _looked _like she was attempting to. Harry didn't seem to be very willing, pushing her arm away and keeping his mouth tightly zipped shut.

He looked up as I approached, his pained expression morphing into a small smile, however hard it looked.

Madam Pomfrey looked the slightest bit relieved. "Miss Weasley."

I gestured to the plate in her hands. "May I?" I asked.

Pomfrey looked from me to Harry to me again, then nodded. I took the plate from her and replaced her spot in the chair. She observed my methods.

I lifted the fork up to Harry's lips. He obediently opened his mouth to accept the mashed potatoes. He swallowed with minimal fuss, although he didn't look too happy about it. Pomfrey, satisfied, left for her office.

"You need to eat, Harry," I chided, lifting another small portion of potatoes to his mouth. "You're going to put Pomfrey in a right fuss if you don't."

He just shrugged, not making eye contact but nonetheless accepting the potatoes once more. He finished the meal in slow silence. It was hard, and more than once Harry took a long time to swallow.

I set the plate down at long last. I grasped his hands tightly in mine. "Thank you, Harry," I said. "For eating." I was having the same troubles nowadays, too.

He sighed and looked to the other side of the bed. "I hate you seeing me like this," he whispered because a whisper was all he could manage anymore.

I squeezed his hands a little more, quite aware of the long pause that followed the admission. Finally, I said, "Hermione, Ron, Carter, and Neville are going to be here soon. They want to see you."

"Like this?" It was a vulnerable question.

"You're still wonderful, Harry. Always wonderful."

At that moment, the doors burst open with the group aforementioned.

They greeted him enthusiastically. Ron, Neville, Carter, and Harry quickly got into a discussion about Quidditch tactics. Well, the first three talked more and Harry seemed to contentedly listen. I turned to Hermione and she nodded, discretely pulling s vial with the clear potion out of her robes and handing it to me. I set about pouring Harry a glass of water, putting in the vial while his eyes were closed. Apparently, the potion was flavorless and colorless, much like _Veritaserum_. This was a benefit, as I was drugging Harry unknowingly.

"Harry, water," I offered. I held up the glass to his lips, and he begrudgingly drank it. I watched avidly, nearly tasting his redemption on my tongue. The glass was empty soon, and I smiled at him. I brushed back his hair softly, kissing his forehead. "Love you."

O O O

The next day I visited him early. I woke up, peed, brushed my hair and teeth using their respectable bristles, put on my mascara, pulled up my stockings, tied my laces, and walked downstairs. It was a Friday. Classes started at nine for me, and it was only seven-thirty.

It had been seventeen hours since I had given Harry the potion.

I walked calmly through the hallways. I nodded to portraits that waved. I did not smile. I did not frown. I did not run into anyone.

I entered the Hospital Wing. I went Harry's bedside and sat down.

Grabbing his hand, I pulled mine back in shock. His hand was ice cold. Heart plummeting, I stumbled to my feet.

"Mad—Madam Pomfrey!" I called. "MADAM POMFREY!"

The nurse was pulling on her robe as she came out of her quarters. "What's the fuss about?"

"Harry. He's—"

Pomfrey's worried eyes fell from me to Harry for a split second before she rushed over to his bedside and began to set about diagnostic spells and inspecting his vitals. I turned away, unable to bear what was happening. What happened? What about the potion?

I put a hand to my forehead, feeling faint. I swayed. "Miss Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey shouted. She hurriedly let me to a bed, laying me down. "Now just take deep breaths while I work on Mr. Potter."

I did as she asked and the next ten minutes were the worst ones I ever lived through; long, itchy, suffocating minutes.

Finally, I felt somewhat in control so I sat up on the bed and watched Madam Pomfrey with Harry. She was observing the results of a spell she cast on him.

"His magic is buzzing still," she said, not stopping in her work. "It shouldn't be as he has no pulse, but his magic is still working so he is alive. I've never seen a case such as this." I watched with wide eyes as she sent a series of spells at Harry. She glanced at me, finally. "The spells imitate a heartbeat and force him to breathe."

"Is he going to live?" I whispered. I buried my face in my hands._ Oh, Merlin, that bloody potion. _

"I don't know," the nurse replied honestly. I could only shake my head into my sweating palms.

The nurse summoned the Headmaster. He appeared, gave me a grim smile, and then turned to my boyfriend. My Harry. Breathing heavily with the stress the situation brought, I watched widely as Dumbledore ran his wand above where Harry lay.

"I—I gave him a potion." At my confession, Dumbledore and Pomfrey looked up at me. "_Mutatio Historia_," I clarified.

Pomfrey looked confused, but the Headmaster adopted a thoughtful countenance.

"And when was this, Miss Weasley?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yesterday. Less than twenty hours ago," I said.

Dumbledore looked distantly out the window before turning back to Harry. "All we can do now is wait. There is no reversing that particular potion." Dumbledore then addressed me directly. "I suspect the potion had to shut down his body in order for the vast amount of magic to occur. The _Mutatio Historia_ potion reverses effects in a person on a cellular level, and that is very complicated. In fact, very few wizards and witches choose to delve into this brand of magical science because of its complexity in the way it works. Who, may I ask, was the conductor of the potion?"

I swallowed thickly. "Er—Neville. Neville Longbottom."

The Headmaster appeared unsurprised. "Yes, he's a brilliant lad in many ways."

There was a beat of silence before I burst. "What of Harry?"

"Do you mean, will he live?" asked Dumbledore bluntly. I nodded. "I know not if he will, but I am hopeful for him. He has suffered through so much, and I cannot wish but with all my being that this potion endeavor will lead to his success for life." The Headmaster planted me with a serious stare. "If not for you and your love, Miss Weasley, there would be no chance of his survival. Truly, it is a sight to have seen the pair of you grow together over the past few months. I have not seen such devotion in a couple since Harry's parents walked the halls of the castle."

I gave the Headmaster a small but genuine smile. I shifted my gaze over to the boy I would lay down my life for and felt the purest longing for him to survive—right down through my heart and gut reaching to my toes. Madam Pomfrey lingered off to the side, having watched the Headmaster's and my exchange. "Can I stay here until—?"

Kindly, Madam Pomfrey nodded as the Headmaster assented my request, sending out memos to inform my teachers of my whereabouts. And so I stayed and watched Harry's imitated breaths with a book in my lap that I couldn't begin to focus on.

Not when the focus of my existence lay two feet away.

O O O

_A/N_: wowsorryivebeennotupdating. The last two months I've been unusually depressed and busy, and I'm finally emerging from my funk. I've basically been avoiding writing as much as possible by doing every other creative thing I could think of like painting, guitar playing, trombone playing, shopping, crossword puzzling, reading, annnd working (not creative ftw walk, feet first, one bounce, squeegee). Sorry again! But we're near the end of the road, so you won't have to suffer my erratic updating for too much longer. My goal is to have this done before I start my first year of college in Septembaaahhhh!

**Review, my lovelies.**


	24. Awe

**The Bent Boy**

**by ValorOrgulloso**

**Awe**

_I don't mind losing sleep_

_Pray the lord my soul to keep_

_I'll get plenty of rest when I'm dead_

_But 'til then won't you share my bed 'cause_

_All I mind's losing you._

Losing You -John Butler Trio

O O O

He was glowing. Red and gold and purple. light shone through his t-shirt, so he appeared to be a firefly of some sort, with his pale skin shining brightly lighting up the room.

Dumbledore was in the room, too, as I had called an assembly of people together when I first noticed the resonant quality of his previously pale skin. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were there standing and observing him, along with Carter, Neville, Ron, and Hermione. Sirius sat in his dog form near the edge of the bed, having reemerged from wherever Dumbledore had hidden him until a big event like this came up.

"Minerva, Floo-call Bill Weasley. Tell him we need him in the infirmary," said Dumbledore.

McGonagall shot the Headmaster a look, confused no doubt at my brother's need, as was I, before rushing into Madam Pomfrey's office, where a fireplace must exist.

I stared at Harry, chest heaving a bit too hard, nervous for what was to come next. I had to wait out the odd situation, though, or else I'd go insane with worry.

I reached out through the tense breathing in the room with my hand, nearly grasping Harry's before an age-spotted one grasped my arm in a surprisingly strong hold.

"I don't believe it wise to touch Mr. Potter."

I stared at the solemn Headmaster. "Why's that?" I asked, voice little more than a whisper.

"That glow you're seeing is his curse," he explained, releasing my hand. "To touch a curse like that could have dramatic consequences for the perpetrator. You could get a backlash or a part of the curse, or perhaps the entire quantity of it."

I let out a breath, interested with this bit of information. "Would it remove it from Harry?"

"I know not for sure," Dumbledore said, "but I don't believe it would, no. Instead, it would likely affect both of you in equal measures."

I nodded, humbled with this bit of information. I was about to sink onto an empty hospital cot when my eldest brother walked in, followed by a harried McGonagall.

"Bill!" I exclaimed, and I heard similar sentiments from Ron. He was dressed in a loose, white tunic and brown khakis, his red hair pulled back in a sweaty ponytail. Clearly, he had been at work in the tombs right before.

He took in the sight before him of Harry glowing. Then, turning, he looked first at Ron and then me grimly. He approached me cautiously, as though I would react explosively if any sudden movements were made. I wasn't sure I wouldn't. "How are you holding up?"

I took a shaky breath. "I don't know. Look at-" I broke off, gesturing to Harry's bedside, where his glowing chest was rising and falling with forced air.

Bill carried his stare from me to Harry. A moment passed, then, eyes unable to leave the boy in the bed, asked, "That the curse?"

Dumbledore moved forward, standing a foot away from Harry's bed.

"Yes, I believe so. Can you remove it?"

Bill's eyes snapped onto Dumbledore. "I-I've only ever removed curses from non-living things. I don't know if-have you tried?" My brother was flustered, more than I've ever seen him. I was thrown off by this: Bill was sure, steady, strong.

"I am afraid my gifts do not lie in the art of curses. Transfiguration, though useful in many respects, cannot help Harry." If Dumbledore looked at me like that, eyes piercing severely into my temple, I would have felt self-conscious; however, Bill merely looked back at Harry, biting his lip in thought.

"Amazing," he murmured, hovering a hand over Harry, shadows reflecting off his face and fang earring forebodingly. "Why is the curse at the surface? A group of the best curse-breakers around and I couldn't even locate its center."

I looked over at Neville, as did most others in the room.

The Boy Who Lived cleared his throat nervously. "We made the _Mutatio__Historia_ potion. It stops further mutations from occurring in his cells by putting the curse in a stasis mode."

"_Neville_ made _Mutatio__Historia_," I said, and many pairs of eyes snapped to me. "If it weren't for him, there would be no hope for Harry." I smiled softly at Neville, trying to show my thanks for his efforts, even if they didn't turn out for the best. He blushed under the praise.

"Brilliant," said Bill. He pulled out his wand, glancing at the headmaster. "If I may?"

Dumbledore nodded in assent, stepping back. Others did too, but I leaned forward, eager to see what Bill was going to try.

His brow furrowed, and he aimed his wand purposefully at my boyfriend's chest. He said an incantation under his breath. I waited expectantly, holding my breath. I could hear my own heart beat as I stared at Harry, fingernails digging into my palms, hoping for some sort of response. And then Bill's shoulder's sagged, and I let out all the air in my lungs. I breathed again, disappointed.

"Rewording, to get it. . .," Bill whispered, rubbing his eyes as he tried to concentrate. I'd never seen my brother look so serious. Then again, I'd never seen him work.

Straightening up again, the room was still death still, everyone on their toes, and Bill pointed his wand again.

Bill recited an indecipherable spell once more, and I expected nothing. In fact, there appeared to have been no results, and I slumped down.

Then I heard Hermione's frantic voice. "Look!" she exclaimed in an excited whisper. "Ginny, look!" She shook my arm, and I stuttered my neck around. I inhaled sharply.

The multicolored light that was emanating from Harry had centered. His chest was now five times as bright as it was before and growing brighter by the second. It was as though the northern lights had settled and were focusing themselves inside of my boyfriend. The room was aglow.

Bill's wand was attached to what looked like a thread of light that connected to Harry's chest.

"A vial!" he shouted. "Get me a container! Anything glass!"

Madam Pomfrey rushed away into her office. Ten tense seconds later, in which the thread of light grew longer and Bill stepped back, Pomfrey was back with a glass jar in hand.

I grabbed it from her as she rushed near, and I came near Bill. This was important. I had to be a part of it.

He glanced at me once briefly, before completely focusing his efforts back onto the light connected to his wand.

"Hold the jar open towards me. On the count of three, I am going to force _this_ light into it. I need you to close it when the last of the light enters. Understand?"

"Yes," I said, breathless with adrenaline.

"Okay," said Bill, pulling at the light a bit. "One," his wand yanked, and Harry jerked, his body flinging as though in a seizure. I cried out, startled, but I slammed both of my feet back on the ground again. I could to do this. "Two," and the light was leaving Harry nearly completely. His chest glowed only in the center. "Three!" and Bill pulled his wand all the way away, flicking his wrist expertly and the light-the _curse_-flew into the jar, jolting me hard, and I grunted, the wind knocked out of me.

"Close it!"

And I did, unable to breath. I slammed the lid shut and fell to the ground, tears escaping the corners of my eyes. Whether from pain or emotion, I knew not.

I vaguely registered a spell being cast over me, and then my airway was clear and I could breath. I panted, dizzy with exertion.

Bill kneeled down beside me, laughing slightly. "All in a day's work, Gin, huh?"

I barked out a slightly hysterical laugh, the room spinning around me. I clutched the jar to my chest, as if to keep myself grounded.

"This damn jar," I said, leaning against the side of Harry's bed. My vision swam, and the concerned faces peered down at me. "Evil." The faces started to fade. "Nothing but evil."

A curtain of red hair fogged my vision. "It's done. Gone."

And with those last words of victory, the world turned dark, and I knew no more.

O O O

**A/N:** I should finish this sometime. Sorry. College is wonderful, but I have not been writing like I used to. Probably why. This is unfortunate for you, I am afraid. I have been writing this story for three years. Oh, god. Review!


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